


Red Light Spells Danger

by justine472



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Denial, F/F, First Love, Passion, Past Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-08-21 16:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justine472/pseuds/justine472
Summary: Bernie Wolfe is a Clinical Psychologist recently retired from the RAMC after an accident leaving her with serious  injuries. She is hired by Holby City hospital as a clinical psychologist specialising in trauma. Little does she know that the head of AAU, where the Trauma ward is based, is one Serena Campbell, whom she knew when both were students in France in the '80s. They have significant history, but one of them left without explanation and now they agree they are on ground zero. But nothing buried stays hidden, as  they both discover.





	1. Red Light Spells Danger

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mixtape: 1983](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595842) by [serenacampbell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenacampbell/pseuds/serenacampbell). 



> OK so this was basically my first fic. I started it after reading "Mixtape:1983" by the awesome serenacampbell, which so hit me in the gut that I wanted to revisit the 80's - and my own young adulthood-with Bernie and Serena. I didn't actually start posting until April this year, at which time other fics had surged forwards and this one was put on the back burner. In the meantime, another superb fic with a past connection had set my pulse racing- "when will i see that girl, that girl from way back when?" by ktlsyrtis and lavenderseaslug, which so powerfully imagined a modern solution to the problem of shared memory that it encouraged me to reopen that particular Pandora's Box and go for it. 
> 
> I should be clear that I am not attempting to emulate the brilliance of either of these works, only to add to this theme of past loves revisited/reignited/resolved etc. because I am sure I am not alone in believing that some relationships are just meant to be and time and circumstances are only temporary encumbrances. 
> 
> I have tried, in the chapters dealing with the past, to put myself in the mental frame of the 80's, to depict them as the sexual innocents they would certainly appear to be compared to the youth of today, especially as regards LGBT relationships, which were still perceived a largely taboo or secret.
> 
> Title song is by Billy Ocean.

**April 2016, 8.15 am**

Emerging from the cabin of the Airbus A380 into the covered walkway at Heathrow Airport’s Terminal 4, Bernie Wolfe shivers and pulls a powder blue cotton sweater over her white T-shirt. She’s in civvies this time but her passport gives away her status. The overnight flight from Singapore has been endless and although seated in Business Class, she was unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the vast dusty expanse of the Afghan plains and heard the thwup-thwup-thwup of helicopter rotors. Coming from a distance, as if underwater, she heard the voice of RAMC medic, Alex Dawson, urging her to “hang in there” as she fought to free Bernie from the tangled metal of the Army jeep. Bernie finally put her Business Class seat upright, ordered a Lagavulin on the rocks and tried to watch a silly comedy on the flight entertainment system. After breakfast and several cups of tasteless airline coffee, as cabin crew ordered passengers to open their window blinds in preparation for landing, and daylight filtered into the cabin, she peered down at the grey and green landscape coming into focus. For the first time in many years she had a sensation of coming home.

 As a serving member of the Armed Forces, Major Berenice Wolfe is fast-tracked through immigration, leaving behind hundreds of passengers who will take at least an hour to get through. She walks stiffly to the conveyor and collects her kitbag, then heads straight to the car rental pickup point, pulling a dark olive raincoat over her thin sweater and black skinny jeans to ward off the cold and damp. Being one of the first in the queue at Hertz, she picks up her pre-booked car and hits the M4. As she makes the left turn onto the motorway ramp, drops of rain start hitting the windscreen. Accelerating into the outside lane, Bernie exhales, turns on her wipers and punches the button for Radio 2. She cruises comfortably for about 15 minutes, keeping to the right lane, heading west towards Holby, as the radio DJ keeps up a stream of banter with a hapless quiz participant who is about to be dispatched from the show. “Is there anyone you’d like to dedicate this next song to, Terry?” urges the DJ. “Yes, thanks Steve, this is for my lovely wife Amanda. We met at university and this was always our song. Love you, babe!” As the DJ makes farewell noises to Terry, the song starts. Bernie reaches over and raises the volume, keeping her eyes on the road all the time.

  _Red light spells danger_

_Can’t hold out much longer_

_‘Cause red light means warning_

_Can’t hold out I’m burning_

_No, no, no_

_You took my heart and turned me on_

_And now the danger sign is on_

_Never thought the day would come_

_When I would feel alone without you_

The wipers keeping time with the hypnotic dance beat have a mesmerising effect on Bernie and she carefully reduces speed and pulls over into the nearside lane, singing somewhat tunelessly along to the music, and trying to block out a sudden unexpected surge of emotion.  Goodness only knows she doesn’t need a road accident on top of everything else.

  _I can’t stop running to you_

_Feel love coming through you_

_Girl, with you beside me_

_Hold on heaven guide me_  
  
_Red light spells danger_

_Can’t hold out much longer_

_‘Cause red light means warning_

_Can’t hold out I’m burning_

 

“Pull yourself together Wolfe!” she exhorts herself, singing louder to keep focused on the road and to halt the slide into memory.

 ... _I always used to kiss and run_

_I never wanted love to catch me_

_I thought I had a heart of stone_

_But now I’m in the danger zone_

_I can feel the heat is on, soon the flames are gonna get me…._

 The DJ fades the song before the end to cut in with a news bulletin and at that point the sign for Reading services looms up, reminding Bernie that she needs a caffeine shot and reality break in order to get to her destination safely. Her hands shaking, Bernie stamps on the brake pedal and almost skids onto the exit road. Parking up, she opens her window, releases her seat belt and take a few moments to come back to the here and now.

***

 Berenice Griselda Wolfe, just turned 51, grew up in a military family- father a retired Army General, brother in the RAF. As a result of being brought up in several different countries- including Germany and Hong Kong- she was a quick language learner, excelling in French at school, becoming almost a native speaker of German, and acquiring a workable command of Cantonese and Mandarin. Leaving school with four excellent A Levels in French, German, Psychology and History, she opted to study Modern Languages at Oxford- principally French and German but with an elective in Mandarin. She had no real idea of what she would do after University. Her parents did not push her towards military options but rather hoped she would become a language teacher- a more fitting profession, in their opinion, for a woman.

 As it happened, language teaching did not appeal to Bernie. Partying hard and burning out in her third year, spent in France and Germany, to the point where she had a near nervous breakdown in her final year for reasons she never clearly explained to her parents, she struggled to complete her degree. After months of counselling, her parents suggested she return home after her degree and take a year off to recover. But the last thing Bernie wanted was to spend a tedious year trying to avoid the relentless questioning of her mother. “Was it a man who upset you, darling?”  “Can’t you tell me what happened?” But Bernie kept her silence, knowing there were certain things her parents would never accept.

 Chain-smoking, suffering from anxiety attacks and intermittent vertigo and agoraphobia, Bernie was desperate to find something that would condition her mind and guide her life along a stable and straight track, away from all the dangerous temptations out in the world. In her final term at Oxford, when she had mostly recovered from the worst of her anxiety syndrome, she went to a careers fair and spoke to someone in Military Intelligence. From then on her path was decided. Tall, slim and – despite the short-term anxiety attacks- extremely fit, Berenice Wolfe also came with a formidable range of language and cognitive skills. The Army was especially fascinated by her command of Chinese and her grounding in Psychology. Army Intelligence doesn’t allow recruits to be commissioned as officers, so Bernie was whisked off to Sandhurst and started her basic training. The anxiety quickly receded and her confidence returned.

 The years passed. As Bernie was a responsive and dutiful recruit she quickly moved up the ranks, the Army seeing her potential early on and funding her though a Psychology degree and ultimately to qualification as a Clinical Psychologist. During one of her clinical internships she met surgeon Marcus Dunn, and quickly married and had two children. Her Army postings interrupted family life, and Bernie found herself increasingly on the outside as her children grew up, with Marcus as the at-home parent, and Bernie dropping in between tours.

***

Back in her car, cradling a triple shot latte and peering out at the cold, grey England she had just returned to, Bernie thinks for the first time of what she faces once she reaches Holby. As she hasn’t informed anyone of her exact arrival time, no one has come to meet her. Bit different from last time, ha! Flown in from Afghanistan on military transport with severe leg and spine injuries from a roadside IED, she needed 2 months rest and recovery before she was fit even for deskwork. In that time, with her husband pressuring her to leave the Army and get a civilian posting, Bernie was feeling increasingly uncomfortable in her marriage and in what was, in effect, Marcus’ (dead mother’s) house, and came to the inevitable conclusion that something had to break. Marcus, exasperated by what he saw as Bernie’s intransigeance and talk of going back to the Army, eventually realised that she was pulling away from him, had been pulling away for years, and that it might be time to let go. They agreed, amicably, to divorce, and once everything had been agreed, Bernie decided on a clean break for a few months to let the dust settle. She asked her Intelligence chief to help her find a short term overseas posting as a psychologist, and as soon as she was declared fit for work, she set off for Singapore, on loan to a military hospital with a few teaching duties thrown in.

 Bernie throws her coffee cup in the bin and gets back in the car, but before she can start the engine, her phone starts ringing.

“Cam”, she answers her son, continuing to pull her seat belt into position.

“Madre,” he replies “welcome back to the cold and damp, what’s your ETA?”

“I’m at Reading services, so let’s say an hour and fifteen from now, traffic permitting”.

“Can we meet for lunch- not at the house?” asks Cameron.

“Yes, of course, why? What’s the problem?”

“Dad’s at home today. Just thought you might want to catch up on our own.”

“I see. Is there something you’re not saying, Cam? “

“Umm, it’s just, a little complication that might have arisen ..”

“Complication regarding...?”

“It’ll wait, Mum, but trust me, you ‘d better meet me first. Let’s say The Plough at 11.45?”.

Cam cuts the call and Bernie heads back onto the motorway, with a sudden sense of foreboding.

As she pulls into the car park at The Plough, Bernie sees Cam’s car already there. He is waiting inside at a window table, his hair its usual ruffled mess, but his eyes warm and welcoming as he pulls her into a hug.

“Hey, how are you feeling? Jet-lagged?”

“Well I may be later on but three shots in my latte kept my eyes on the road,” she laughs. “So come on, tell me what’s been happening.”

“Hey, Mum, have a seat, chill! Let’s order lunch first and catch up a bit.”

 Bernie barely glances at the menu, picking the first salad in the list of specials- Greek, as it happens, and Cam goes to the bar to order and get the drinks in. Bernie is still on edge, tapping her fingers on the beer mat and pulling bits off it by the time he returns. She intended to drink soda but finally opts for a glass of wine to give her courage for what Cam has to tell her.

 “Here you go, a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc,” he says, depositing the glass in front of her and slopping a craft ale over the top of his own glass as he sits. Bernie drops the mutilated beer mat. “Cheers”, she says, raising her glass to clink against his, peering anxiously through her fringe before taking a large swig. Cam senses her apprehension but tries for a gentle approach.

 “So how was Singapore?”

“You’ve been there, haven’t you? Didn’t you go via Singapore when you went backpacking around Asia in your holidays from med school?”

“Yes, but it was really just a transit. Seven hour layover on the way to Indonesia. Time for a city tour and a few pints of Tiger!”

“Ah well. You didn’t miss much.”

“Really? That bad?”

Bernie sighs. “Just a giant shopping mall really, with a bird park, a zoo and a few other tourist attractions thrown in. Oh and great banana leaf curries,” she adds with a small smile.

“Or maybe you just didn’t find the magical bits?”

“Quite possibly”, Bernie concedes. “I wasn’t really in the mood for exploring”.

“Thinking too hard about the divorce?” Cam asks.

“Why would I? Your father and I decided to divorce and that’s what’s been happening. We’ve done all the financial stuff, just a matter now of waiting for it to go through,” she pauses, “right?”

 “Hmm”, Cameron looks into his glass for a minute before raising his head. “Um, actually, Mum, about that...”, he is interrupted by a member of the serving staff  bringing plates of food, so both fall silent until she has gone.

 “What? Come on Cam, spit it out”.

 "Well, I know the divorce is pretty much finalised, and you guys were on OK terms about it but, umm, that might change”.

 “Get to the point!” Bernie insists, pushing her fringe back with a trembling hand, her guts churning.

 “Do you know a woman called Alex Dawson? Captain Alex Dawson?”

 Shit, fuck, that’s all she needs. All her worst fears realised.  Seeing her expression, the answer revealed in her eyes, Cam continues.

 “She came to the house about 10 days ago. I answered the door. She insisted on coming in and telling me all about her affair with you. Dad came home in the middle of it. “

 Bernie has gone pale and looks down at her hands, no longer able to meet Cameron’s gaze.

 “Mum, why didn’t you tell us? I mean, we’re not innocents, we understand...”

 “So what..what happened when Marcus turned up?” Bernie interrupts, still looking down.

 “He got angry. Told her to leave and that he didn’t want to hear lies about his wife”.

 Bernie is silent, then she raises her eyes to Cam’s. “And is that what you think? That she was lying?”

 “No, Mum. And Dad could see it too, whatever he said to her to get rid of her. She was too convincing, and it’s obvious she loves you.”

 Bernie has no answer, her fingers have gone back to shredding the beer mat, and when she looks up, Cam sees the fear in her eyes.

 “Mum, it’s OK, I totally understand. I always thought there was something strange about your and Dad’s relationship, though I put it down mostly to you being away so much- acting like strangers and all that- so it was no shock to me. But Dad is furious- not about the lesbian thing- but that you lied. And that you got him to agree to the divorce under false pretences.  Lottie’s pretty cut up.....”

 “Oh my God! He told Lottie!”

 “Yes. He told a lot of people. He thinks you humiliated him. You know what a Daddy’s girl Lottie is, so it’s been much harder for her to take in”.

 “Oh my God”, repeats Bernie, wiping tears from her eyes.

 “Mum, can I ask...are you and Alex together? She said she was the one who got you out of that jeep in Afghanistan when the IED hit”.

 “She did, it’s true, I owe her my life, but no, no, we’ve never really been “together”. It was just a fling. Far from home, one of those things... I ended it after I got back. Cam, I really wanted to try to make it work with your Dad, but things just...overwhelmed me. Alex was not the r-reason for the d-divorce”. She begins to cry, silently, shoulders shaking.

 Cam sits quietly watching her for a while, then he reaches across the table, intertwining his fingers with hers to calm her, and smiles.

 “You know, Mum, maybe it’s not such a bad thing that it should come out now. You’re single, free and still young enough”, he smirks and Bernie smacks his hand. “No, really, you can rebuild your life. Look, don’t think Lottie and I are all that traumatized by the divorce. We saw how it was, I mean, you and dad not being very close. It was hard when we were young, but as we grew up it seemed natural that you would separate eventually. We just didn’t think you would cheat on him and hide it, but I understand, really I do, even if Lottie will take longer to get over it.”

 “Well then you were obviously more perceptive than I gave you credit for. I did love Marcus, at least, when we were students and in those early years, when you two were born. I did try to make it work but....”

 “In the end, the stress of hiding was too much?  Were there other women before Alex?”

 “No, ..not really, well  just one. I was very young, before I met your dad- I thought it was just a one off”.

 


	2. Slow Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Bernie and Serena meet in Paris during their student days. The song for the chapter is "Slow Hand" by the Pointer Sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here goes. The year is 1986 but the songs mentioned in this and subsequent chapters are not necessarily all from that year - just that period generally.

**PARIS, 1986**

The music in the disco was loud, so Bernie didn’t have to maintain a conversation, which was a relief. She was with 2 students from her class at the Sorbonne in Paris, Gilles and Brigitte, who were the same age as her, plus Brigitte’s boyfriend, Sami, a stunningly handsome Tunisian guy with bright green eyes, and his older friend, Jean-Michel, plus an attractive, lively brunette woman who introduced herself as Serena, studying Biosciences. They had had dinner at Sami’s apartment in the 5th district. Bernie had found herself next to Serena, and after some argument about politics, where Jean-Michel had expressed admiration for the policies of Mrs Thatcher, provoking the usually quiet Bernie to rise to the challenge and stretch her French to crush Jean-Michel’s argument, to the amusement of all concerned, Serena leaned over and whispered in English “Well done!” Bernie’s trained ear immediately detected a fellow native speaker, despite the fact that, up till then, only French had been spoken.  Bernie to turned to face Serena “You’re a Brit”. “Sorry, darling”, drawled Serena in her best cut glass English accent, “it’s true. But my mum is French, that’s why I’m studying here, not in England”.

“Bilingual?” Bernie was envious, but Serena waved her hand and lit a Disque Bleu. “Not really”, she exhaled, blowing a cloud of aromatic smoke over Bernie. “I mean, now, yes, maybe, but I grew up in England, my Dad’s Scottish. I only spoke French to my Mum”. 

 “Can I have one of those?” asked Bernie, pointing at the Disque Bleu packet. Serena proffered it, “Here, poison yourself,” she said, her eyes twinkling. Then she leaned forward to light Bernie’s cigarette, not taking her eyes off Bernie’s face the whole time. Bernie could feel herself flushing at the proximity. “Thanks”, she said, stepping backwards, as Serena smirked.

Later, when they got to the disco, Bernie was already fuzzy with cigarettes and wine. Serena took her arm as they entered and said in her ear “You know, after your discussion over dinner, Jean-Michel said that “l’Anglaise” was the only person with anything intelligent to say.   That’s quite an achievement! He’s a lecturer in Political Science “.  Bernie was amazed, “No kidding?” and Serena squeezed her arm, leaving Bernie tingling for some reason she couldn’t fathom.

Bernie was not really a disco person. Back at Oxford, she had tended to frequent Indian or Chinese restaurants with a few friends or trips to the cinema, or the kind of student parties where everyone just got drunk and talked about the Meaning of Life, but nightclubs had never really appealed. In France, it seemed everyone went to nightclubs where the music was so loud that you couldn’t have a conversation, but, unlike the UK, any kind of behaviour seemed acceptable. Brigitte was dancing with Sami, and Jean-Michel had disappeared to score some hash and get into another political argument somewhere. Gilles suddenly drifted by in the arms of a chiselled looking black guy wearing the tightest leather trousers.

 “Did you see that?” squeaked Bernie, unable to suppress her immediate reaction.

Serena, who had maintained a presence near Bernie, claiming that there were no decent guys to hang out with, rolled her eyes. “So they’re gay, get over it. Who cares?”

 “I didn’t mean that I disapproved”, stammered Bernie. “It’s just a bit of a surprise.”

 “I suppose it is” Serena rejoined. “But this, basically, is why I’m here. Oh not according to my mum- she thinks I’m studying 24 hours a day- but because this is so much cooler than back home, don’t you think? It’s really good to see that people can be who they want to be and no one cares.”

 “Right”, agreed Bernie.

 “So, if you’re enjoying this different environment, why don’t you dance with me?”

 “With you?” stuttered Bernie.

 “Where did you say you were at uni?” smiled Serena, taking Bernie by the hand and pulling her onto the dance floor.

 “Umm, I didn’t but...Oxford” Bernie mumbled, almost shamefacedly.

 Serena smiled knowingly. “Even more reason to blow some of those old cobwebs away”.

Bernie felt herself being carried by Serena’s tight grip into the flow of the dance traffic. The upbeat tune that had been playing suddenly faded and before Bernie could pull away it cued into the Pointer Sisters’ “Slow Hand”.  Serena tugged Bernie towards her and murmured “Let’s just smooch”. Before Bernie had the chance to process “smooch”, Serena had her arms round Bernie’s neck and was pushing her breasts and pelvis suggestively against her. The strange thing was, she fit perfectly, and Bernie relaxed into the embrace, her nose buried in the short hairs against Serena’s collar, and began to sway in time to the music.

 “I like this song”, Serena mumbled, “more men should pay attention”.

 Bernie, who didn’t know the song very well, suddenly took in the lyrics

  _Darlin' don't say a word, cause I already heard_ __  
_What your body's sayin' to mine_ __  
_I'm tired of fast moves_ __  
_I've got a slow groove_ _  
__On my mind_

As the meaning of the words penetrated her brain, Bernie had a sudden sensation of molten lava running through her.  She shuddered almost imperceptibly, and Serena tightened her arms round Bernie’s neck, and Bernie found her hands gripping Serena’s hips as they danced, feeling Serena’s swaying motion moving her lower half gently back and forth, just touching Bernie’s body enough that she felt waves of pleasure resonating through her core; and Serena’s perfume was all inside her, and the skin of her neck was so soft that Bernie could hardly pull away. Serena wrapped herself happily round Bernie, singing the lyrics into her ear-

  _I want a lover with an easy touch_  
_I want somebody who will spend some time_  
_Not come and go in a heated rush_  
_I want somebody who will understand_  
_When it comes to love, I want a slow hand_

Bernie could feel herself drowning in Serena. This was way out of her comfort zone, she had no clue how to react or what to do, but the sensation was so pleasurable that she had no desire to stop. She assumed that both were rather drunk- on the wine consumed at dinner and on several gin and tonics afterwards, and really, no one else seemed to care. As the song reached its climax, Serena suddenly bit Bernie’s neck, sucking on her pulse point, and Bernie felt something like an electric shock running down her body, through her breasts and down into her core. For a moment she thought she would pass out with the intensity of it, but as she came round she realised that the song had ended and she was still holding Serena tightly around the waist, feeling her breasts squishing against her own. They came to a standstill and Bernie immediately disentangled herself. Serena had an amused look on her face. “Hmmm. That was really nice”, she said. “You smell so good”

 “So do you, what IS that perfume you’re wearing? Sorry, I, I think I drank too much”, Bernie blustered. “I need to go home”.

 Serena smiled again and looked at her watch, not seeming in the slightest intoxicated. “Which question shall I answer first? OK, perfume, It’s _J’ai Os_ _é_ by Guy Laroche. Next, yes, 1.30 am, it’s my bedtime, too. Do you want to take the Metro? Maybe not a good idea on your own. Hey, look, we can share a taxi”.

Bernie agreed and Serena immediately jumped into the road waving her arms and yelling “Taxi!”. Before Bernie could register what was happening she was being bundled into the back of a car and Serena was asking her where she lived. Bernie mumbled her address, which Serena then relayed to the taxi driver. Bernie realised she hadn’t asked Serena where she was going and worried that it would be expensive for her after dropping Bernie. Serena seemed to sense this.

 “I’ve got a small pad not far from yours”, she said. “My parents didn’t want me to live in the student residence- too many, er, Arab men!” she sniggered. “Personally, I thought that was one of the main reasons to live in halls, so you could meet attractive men. And some of them are stunning, eh? “

 “Er yes, I suppose so,” said Bernie, who hadn’t so far paid much attention to the male talent on offer.

 The taxi ride was quite a long one and Serena yawned. “Oh, I’m sleepy. Can I just lean on you?” and before Bernie could react, Serena had buried her head in Bernie’s chest and wrapped her arms around her middle. Bernie exhaled, tried to relax her body and accept Serena’s embrace, acutely aware of the pressure of Serena’s head against her breasts, feeling her nipples stiffen, and little jolts of pleasure run from her stomach to her groin as Serena squeezed her waist. When Serena seemed to be asleep, Bernie sank a little lower in her seat and let her hand caress Serena’s soft hair and her shoulder. She wished the ride could last forever.

 Finally they arrived at Bernie’s apartment building and Serena woke with a jolt as the taxi came to a stop. She refused to take money from Bernie, insisting the taxi was  her idea, and there was quite a little tussle until Bernie gave in, knowing she couldn’t win.

 “Ok, so..um..goodnight” Bernie faltered, not wanting to withdraw from Serena’s warmth or tear herself away from those deep  brown eyes. Serena gave her the most beautiful smile and then suddenly reached forward and touched the bite on Bernie’s neck. “Oo sorry, you’ll have a mark tomorrow”, and she kissed Bernie softly on the bite mark, as if to soothe it. When she pulled back her eyes were shining mischievously.  “Goodnight”, she said, “see you around”. 

Bernie clambered out of the taxi, the door closed behind her and the taxi moved away and Bernie was left standing rigid on the pavement like a statue, her neck tingling from the kiss and her nose still inhaling Serena’s perfume. As she turned to enter the building, she suddenly realised she had no address or telephone number for Serena, and no way of knowing when she would see her again.

 

 


	3. Dancing In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Bernie's first day at Holby City hospital and it seems to go well except that she hasn't yet met the head of AAU. When she hears her name and sees a picture she starts to have suspicions that she may know her. Serena comes back from her day off and Ric, Fletch and Raf update her on the new Psych consultant. The information given starts to make her also have her suspicions about the woman. Finally, in the morning of the next day, they meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are obviously going to recognise each other at some point during their first meeting for over 30 years, so the story will take off from there. The plan is to have each alternating chapter set in a different time period, but whether that will continue all the way through is still moot. I have several chapters written- but what usually happens is that half way through the characters develop a life of their own and push me all over the place. So we shall see!
> 
> Song for this chapter is "Dancing In The Dark" by Bruce Springsteen.

**April 2016**

Stuck in traffic on her way to her first day at work, Bernie taps the steering wheel of her Mazda impatiently. After her stressful meeting with Marcus the day she returned from Singapore, she decided to withdraw from her interview at St James, where Marcus works, and apply to the NHS hospital Holby City instead. Marcus had been cold and angry and it was clear that Bernie would have no friends at St James if she decided to take a job there. Although the divorce was all but finalized, and there was nothing that Marcus could do to influence the financial settlement, it was clear to Bernie that Marcus felt shame and humiliation from learning about her affair with Alex, and he was determined to punish her as much as he could. All Bernie could do was back out with Cam’s “Hey, Mum, let’s keep in touch”, and Charlotte’s stinging silence ringing in her ears.

Fortunately for Bernie, the CEO of Holby City Hospital, Henrik Hanssen, was looking for an urgent replacement for a member of the Psychology Department. A friend of a friend in Military Intelligence tipped her off that there was a job possibility. It seemed that Holby had just opened a Trauma Unit, and with so many referral cases now being directed there, a permanent Psychologist was required to be on call for trauma cases where previously AAU had shared access to the Psych Dept. with other wards.  Bernie had sailed through the interview, her CV preceding her, together with her military references, and Henrik had been quick to sign a contract.

Finally easing through the traffic, Bernie pulls into the Holby City car park, just on time for her first day.  After acquainting herself with her office, which is a pleasant enough space with a desk, chair, sofa and calm pale green walls, Bernie has barely divested herself of her raincoat when the phone on her desk starts ringing. It’s Hanssen:

 “Ms Wolfe? I know it’s your first day but we have an urgent request from AAU. Could you please make your way over there? “

 Bernie hastily gathers a notebook and pen and walks as fast as she can to AAU after checking the location map at the lifts.  On arrival she makes her way to the nurse’s station.

 “Umm.. you requested a Psych consult? I’m the new Psychology Consultant, Bernie Wolfe”.

 A trim, smiling man in navy scrubs bounces up from behind the desk- “Ah yes, Ms Wolfe, good to meet you. Adrian Fletcher, I’m the nurse in charge of this ward”. He extends his hand to Bernie who shakes it.

 “How can I help?”

 “We have a new trauma patient who has been sent here from a military base, but he won’t talk. We’ve treated his external injuries- he has nerve damage to his neck after what has been described as a fall on a training exercise, but he won’t communicate with us to tell us exactly how this happened. We suspect some kind of mental trauma as well as physical. Can you try to talk to him?”

 “OK, can you give me his notes?”

 “Er, yes, here they are. I’m afraid our lead consultant is not in this morning – normally we would need her approval for this, but I called her and got her verbal permission. She’ll follow up with you when she’s back tomorrow”.

 “OK”, Bernie is impatient to get started and is not too concerned about NHS protocols. “Where is he?”

 “Bay 6, over there. Our registrar, Mr. Di Lucca, is with him right now”.

 Bernie takes the file and walks purposefully to Bay 6. A slight, good looking man in aqua scrubs is hovering over the patient. Bernie approaches and introduces herself. Raf moves out of earshot of the patient and explains that he has possible spinal damage from the neck injury and won’t tell them how the injury occurred.

 “We suspect, from his behaviour, that he may have been attacked by another soldier”, explains Raf. “He seems to be covering something up. The thing is, we need to know exactly how this injury occurred before we can treat it properly.”

 “OK, leave it with me”, says Bernie.

 Raf wanders back to the nurse’s station. “Wow, about time we had some Psych support!”

 “Yeah,” Fletch responds,” and she seems quick on the uptake, which is a pleasant surprise”.

 15 minutes later, Fletch wanders back over towards the military patient and, to his surprise, the man is laughing and joking with Ms Wolfe.

 “Major, that’s a great story”, Fletch hears the man say.

 “Major?” asks Fletch.

 “Er, yes, I was a psychologist with the Army “, says Bernie.

 “OK” says Fletch, practically racing back to the nurse’s station to update Raf.

 “Hmm, wonder what Serena will make of the Major,” says Raf with a smirk. “Hot, blonde Army Major with Psych credentials. Things could be getting interesting around here!”

 “Yup, wonder if they’ll lock horns!”, Fletch responds.

 Half an hour later, Bernie checks out with Fletch and arranges to come back the following day to brief the AAU lead consultant about Sergeant Calthrop, the patient in Bay 6.

 As she exits the ward, she passes a wall display of photos of AAU personnel.

 “Hmm, Serena Campbell, lead consultant,” she muses, eyeing a picture of a short-haired brunette with deep chocolate eyes and a captivating smile. Bernie stops in front of the picture. Serena, no, it can’t be. That Serena, who, 30 years ago, was planning to study Medicine? Surely not.

 Bernie turns her head and sees Raf and Fletch watching her. She smiles and wanders back to them, her heart suddenly racing.

 “This Ms Serena Campbell,” she says, “I may have met her before. Does she by any chance speak French? I have a feeling I may have bumped into her at a conference in France”.

 “Well I’ve never heard her speak French”, begins Fletch, but is interrupted by Raf,

“Actually, her Mum was French, and I’m pretty sure she does. Speak it, I mean”.

 Bernie feels her stomach do a somersault and for a moment she can barely catch her breath. Just when she is beginning to pull her life together, the past has a way of coming back to hit her. Smiling wanly she says only “OK, could be just a coincidence” and exits as fast as she can, leaving Raf and Fletch looking bemused.

 ***

 Serena returns from her visit to her daughter at university and lets herself into the house. It is 6.15 pm. She can hear Jason bounding down the stairs from his room to meet her.

 “Auntie Serena, you said you’d be here by 5.30 to make my dinner”, he says, crossly. “You know I have to eat at 6.30 sharp, and now we’ll be late and it’s all your fault.”

 “Yes, Jason, I’m so sorry, my car broke down and I had to call the AA to fix it.  But I did take precautions against being late- there’s a shepherd’s pie in the fridge that I prepared last night so all I have to do is pop it in the oven for 20 minutes and we’ll be just a few minutes behind schedule”.

 “Well OK then,” he concedes, sitting down at the kitchen table. “How was Ellie’s play?”

“It was fine”, she replies. “Considering it was the first performance, I thought they did very well”.

 She doesn’t add that Ellie was upset that she couldn’t attend the evening performance because she has to get back to Jason. She reheats the shepherd’s pie, and quickly steams some carrots and broccoli.

 “Did you forget to buy wine, Auntie Serena?” asks Jason, surprised to see her with a glass of water.

 “Oh, no, Jason, I have to drop by the hospital to check on a patient in Intensive Care. I’ll probably have a drink later with Ric. Are you OK if I go and leave you for a couple of hours? “’

“Of course, it’s ‘The World’s Strongest Man’ on TV tonight so I’ll be watching that”.

 “OK Jason, I’ll be back by 10.  Could you load the dishwasher for me? Your stacking system’s much better than mine”.

 “Yes, it is, Auntie Serena, although I know you’re only asking me because you’re in a hurry to go out”.

 Serena rolls her eyes, gets her coat and calls an Uber, not trusting her car to get her there and back safely.  

 Raf and Fletch are just heading for the locker room as Serena arrives. “This is supposed to be my day off”, she grumbles, “why couldn’t Ric check on Mr Saunders for me?”

 “Well, he would have, but said gentleman was in a certain amount of distress and kept asking for the surgeon who operated on him yesterday. Just go and pat his hand, Serena, his stats are actually fine, Ric checked. Then come and join us for a drink”.

 By the time Serena makes it to Albie’s Ric is turning from the bar holding a large glass of something deep red.

 “Is that for me? Oh thanks, just what I need after a hard day in theatre”, she says, taking the glass. Ric smiles and orders another.

 “How did it go?”

 “Well, let’s just say it was more of a comedy than a tragedy”, Serena replies, drinking deep.  “What did I miss?”

 “Seen the new Psych consultant?”, Fletch asks Ric, grinning behind his pint.

 “Ah, I heard about it from Henrik”, Ric replies. “Ex-Army or something”.

 “Ooh yes”, mumbles Raf, not making eye contact.

 Serena raises an eyebrow. “Ex-Army shrink? Just what we need. Some crusty old bugger trying to keep us all in order, no doubt. Is this Henrik’s idea of a little joke?"

 “I heard it was a she not a he”, says Ric. “And the idea is to have a dedicated trauma specialist on the psych team to be attached to the Trauma Unit– it would appear Ms Wolfe has been in several global hotspots, Iraq and Afghanistan, for example, or so I’m told’.

 “Oh, and does Superwoman have a first name?”

 “She introduced herself as Bernie “, Fletch supplies.

 “Bernie? What kind of name is that? Bernadette? Bernadine?”

 “Actually Berenice”, says Raf. “I saw it on her name badge”.

 Serena takes another sip of Shiraz but her movements slow down.

 “Unusual name. How old is she?”

 “About your age, Serena,” says Fletch knowingly. ”But very fit looking”.

 “Meaning I’m not?” asks Serena.

 Raf and Fletch snigger but Serena pushes on.

 “So, a bit of a looker, you say? Blonde, brunette, redhead? Tall, short?

 “Er, tall and blonde, and you may actually know her”.

 “I’m sure I don’t. Wolfe, that doesn’t ring any bells”.

 "She asked if you could speak French- she thought she may have met you at a conference in France”.

 Serena raises her eyebrows and, draining her glass, puts it down on the bar. “Really? OK, well thanks for the heads up, that’s something to look forward to tomorrow. I’d better run, Jason’s expecting me back “.

 Serena extracts a ten pound note from her purse and drops it on the bar.

 “This should cover it. ‘Night, chaps”, and she heads for the exit, pulling up the Uber app on her phone on the way. 

 The driver arrives within 5 minutes and Serena gets in. The radio is on and the driver just nods at his GPS which shows Serena’s address. She sinks into the back seat, Bruce Springsteen coming out of the speakers next to her at low volume.

  _I get up in the evening and I ain't got nothing to say,_

_I come home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way_

_I ain't nothing but tired_

_Man I'm just tired and bored with myself_

_Hey there baby, I could use just a little help_

Serena can see her reflection in the window as she gazes out at the lights of Holby. Has she always had that cleft in her chin? And those lines at the side of her mouth? And when did she get so cynical? Her eyes look back at her, defiant, and for a fleeting moment she closes them and sees another pair of brown eyes looking into hers, eyes wide with incomprehension, asking her why. It’s an image she will never be rid of, and she feels the emptiness inside as she looks at her own 51 year old reflection.

  _Can’t start a fire, can’t start a fire without a spark_

_This gun’s for hire,_

_Even if we’re just dancing in the dark._  

***

When Bernie arrives next morning, she passes an obviously stressed out dark haired woman standing beside a car with the bonnet up, shouting into her phone: “What part of ‘I need my car today’ do you not understand?” There’s something vaguely familiar about the woman, but Bernie carries on into the hospital, not wanting to be late.

 She spends some time reading the emails that have piled up for the new Psych consultant, killing time until her appointment with the head of AAU. At 9.15, feeling restless, she heads down to Pulses, the café on the ground floor intending to order a double shot latte for courage. In front of her in the queue she recognizes the woman from the car park squinting short-sightedly at the menu on the wall, half-turning to her, saying “Do you remember when coffee was just coffee?”

 “Ha yes”, chuckles Bernie, and the woman turns round to look at her and their eyes meet.

 “Strong and hot’s all I care about on a day like today”, the woman adds, and sticks out her hand, her chocolate brown eyes creasing into a warm smile.

 “I don’t think we’ve met. Serena Campbell, lead consultant on AAU”

 “Ah, Bernie Wolfe, the new Psych consultant”.

 “Well, well. I think we have an appointment in about 5 minutes to discuss our mutual patient”.

 “That’s right”, Bernie says, “I was just picking up…”

 “Some Dutch courage, before you came face to face with the dragon?” but Serena’s eyes are warm and amused and Bernie blushes.

 “Well come on, then, we may as well head over there together and take our coffee”.

 Serena turns and starts for the door, Bernie following somewhat nervously.

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Maybe I’m Wrong, Won’t You Tell Me If I’m Coming On Too Strong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie bumps into Serena by accident and ends up going to her apartment for tea. This extends to dinner and, ultimately, a sleepover. Serena continues to tease and provoke Bernie, who is shocked by her own response to Serena's physical presence. 
> 
> The song for this chapter is “Waiting For A Girl Like You” by Foreigner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "E" rating starts to come into force here as the young Serena attempts to seduce Bernie. The result is more than either of them could have imagined.

**Paris, 1986**

The next time Bernie saw Serena, she was leaving the library with another student, both of them piled up with books.

 “Hey, Serena”, Bernie called, and Serena stopped and turned, waving at her. “Bernie! _Quelle surprise_!” and she came over to Bernie, kissing her on both cheeks, French style. 

“What are you doing here?” asked Serena, “this is the Science library. Aren’t you Arts?”

“Yes, but I’m doing an assignment on Frantz Fanon, he was a writer trained as a psychologist who worked with torturers and victims of torture during the Algerian war, so I need to access some background on Clinical Psychology”.

 The man accompanying Serena had moved closer and was looking quizzically at Bernie.

 “Oh, Paul, this is my friend Bernie”, said Serena in French. “She’s English”

 “ _Enchant_ _é_ ”, said Paul, leaning forward to brush his stubbled cheek against Bernie’s smooth one.

 “We were just going to have some tea and toast”, said Serena. “My place is  round the corner. Why don’t you join us?”

If Paul was disappointed he had the good grace not to show it, and the three of them headed to Serena’s apartment, where Paul busied himself with the toast and Serena made English style tea.

 “I just can’t give up the good old industrial brew”, she laughed, pouring milk into her and Bernie’s cups. “My mum always brings teabags when she comes to visit”.

It was clear that Paul, a tall, slim man with a Mediterranean complexion, was more than familiar with Serena’s studio apartment, and the way he lay back on the bed also suggested a different kind of familiarity. When the tea and toast were finished, Bernie was thinking about making her excuses as Paul was looking increasingly comfortable on Serena’s bed, but Serena was having none of it.

“Oh Paul”, she laughed, tapping him playfully on the leg, why don’t we call it a day?” We’ve been studying since this morning and I really want to catch up with my friend Bernie, I haven’t seen her for at least a week!”

Paul picked himself up and put on his jacket without a murmur, kissing Serena goodbye and whispering something in her ear. He politely kissed Bernie again, and departed.

Once Serena and Bernie were alone, the atmosphere suddenly changed. Serena moved closer to Bernie and put her fingers on her neck where she had bitten her previous week. 

 “So sorry about that”, she said, not appearing to be sorry at all, “was it really embarrassing?”

 “Well, I just wore a scarf for a few days”, Bernie replied, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the memory.

 “Never mind, I bet everyone would think it was your boyfriend”.

 “I don’t have one”, mumbled Bernie.

 “What? A gorgeous girl like you?” Serena exclaimed. “Oh, we’ll soon have to put that right!”

 Bernie looked down at her hands, she couldn’t think of an answer, but Serena moved closer and gently tipped her chin up so that she could look into her eyes.

 “Don’t tell me you’re actually a virgin!” she said playfully.

 “As a matter of fact, I’m not”, Bernie retorted. “I just don’t want to get involved with anyone right now”.

 “OK, I see”, Serena seemed not the least put out at the answer. She lay full length on her bed and tugged Bernie’s hand.

 “Come here, rest, tell me more about yourself”.

Bernie found herself not entirely unwillingly stretched out next to Serena, close to those deep velvet eyes that seemed to be drawing her in. She could smell the same perfume that Serena had worn the previous week, warm, aromatic and slightly sweet. Serena snuggled against her side, her full breasts brushing against Bernie. Once again Bernie found herself outside her usual comfort zone, but this time there was something expected about it. She found herself holding her breath, as if anticipating what Serena might do next, almost willing her to go further. Slightly shocked and not a little confused by her own reaction to Serena’s closeness, she kept her hands rigidly by her side, not daring to touch Serena, in case she had misinterpreted Serena’s intentions and this was just a typical Gallic friendship.

Serena rolled a little across Bernie and put her arm round Bernie’s stomach, as if trying to get herself more comfortable. As she moved her hand, it slipped underneath Bernie’s short cotton polo shirt and touched her bare skin. Bernie held her breath, her nipples stiffening.

“Mm, you’re so soft and you always smell so good”, mumbled Serena, sounding sleepy, and her head dropped to rest on Bernie’s breast. It took Bernie several minutes to realise that Serena had actually fallen asleep. She remained unmoving as Serena held onto her. After a few more minutes she felt her arm going numb, so she carefully extricated it from under Serena and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling Serena more tightly against her.

Bernie must have dozed off because the next time she opened her eyes, the light had faded and the room was in deep shadow. Serena was still snuggled up to her but Bernie could feel a strange sensation in her chest. Looking down she saw Serena’s head moving against her breast and the sudden friction of her teeth against Bernie’s nipple through her T shirt and bra. Bernie’s breath hitched, little sparks of pleasure radiating out from her nipple.

“What..what are you doing?” she asked.

Serena raised her head with a cheeky smile- “Testing a hypothesis”, she replied “I’m a scientist, it’s what we do”.

 “Ah, and the hypothesis in this case being…?”

 “That your body would react to what I’m doing even if you were really asleep”.

 Bernie was silent for a few seconds.

 “I wasn’t really asleep”, she said.

“Well, in that case”, said Serena and she raised herself up and pressed her lips to Bernie’s. In her befuddled state Bernie could only let her, but as Serena’s soft lips parted and the tip of her tongue began teasing at Bernie’s mouth, Bernie gasped and opened her mouth, her arms reaching up to tangle in Serena’s cropped hair and pull her closer. She felt a great crashing throughout her body as she responded hungrily to the kiss, neither of them coming up for air for several minutes.

“Wow!” said Serena, finally lifting her head and panting. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

 Bernie smiled in the semi-darkness. “Maybe I should be asking you the same question”.

“Touché”, said Serena, rolling aside a little to look up at Bernie. “But do you mind?”

 ”Mind what?”

 “Me experimenting on you?”

 “Ha, is that what it is? Well as long as you don’t plan to set fire to me or anything ..  “

 “Oh, I think I could try”, said Serena suggestively, her warm chocolate gaze melting Bernie’s reserve, and her hand moving under Bernie’s shirt to squeeze her breast.

 “God, Serena.”, Bernie gasped as Serena’s fingers pushed the bra up and began rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Bernie arched her back as Serena moved her mouth to where her fingers had been and began sucking on the nipple while her fingers pushed up the bra on the other side and squeezed.

 “Stop, stop”, panted Bernie. Serena looked up in surprise. “Not good?” she asked.

“Not comfortable” said Bernie, sitting up and pushing her cardigan off and with one smooth movement pulling her polo shirt and bra over her head before lying back down.

“Much better”, Serena approved, suddenly finding a vast expanse of warm skin to suck and lick. She continued caressing and sucking Bernie’s breasts, noticing that Bernie arched her back a little higher each time she pressed down on her breasts with the flat of her hand. Serena could feel her own arousal building as she kissed all around Bernie’s neck, nipping and sucking and making more marks while Bernie writhed beneath her. The temperature in the room was rising and Serena leaned up impatiently and hauled off her sweater and bra, flinging them onto the floor. When their exposed upper bodies came together Bernie gasped and reached her arms around Serena, stroking her shoulders and upper back as she fitted their breasts together to create a gentle friction.

Encouraged by Bernie’s enthusiastic response and fascinated to see where it might go, Serena slowly moved her hand down to the button of Bernie’s cord jeans and slipped her fingers underneath, just touching the elastic of her knickers.

“Is this OK?”  she whispered pushing her fingers down a little so that she could feel the warmth of her flat stomach. Bernie brought her own hand down and quickly released the button and zip, pushing the trousers down around her hips. Without speaking, Serena moved to cup Bernie through her knickers. She could feel how damp the fabric was, and she gently stroked her through the material, hearing Bernie’s breathing change, become more like a sob as she thrust her hips against Serena, seeking more. This was Serena’s cue to push down the knickers and slide her fingers into Bernie’s soft wetness, feeling as she did so an answering response deep in her own body. She slid her fingers up and down, trying to gauge from Bernie’s response what she should do next. When she touched her clit, Bernie cried out and whispered “yes, yes”, so Serena increased the pressure of her strokes, sinking her middle finger a little more into Bernie and lengthening the stroke to delay touching her clit. This was clearly driving Bernie crazy as she jerked her hips against Serena’s hand and encouraged her to go faster. Serena increased the pace, keeping her finger sliding all around and over Bernie’s clit until suddenly Bernie cried “Ahhh” and stopped moving, putting her hand over Serena’s to keep her still. Serena could feel Bernie’s walls spasming and a gush of wetness coated her fingers.

Serena waited, her fingers still inside Bernie, until Bernie reached down and pulled her hand away. Serena discreetly wiped her fingers on the sheets, still trying to process what had happened, how easily she had made Bernie come. Bernie remained silent, cheeks flushed.  Sensing her embarrassment, Serena said “You’re so lucky”.

 “Why?” asked Bernie, keeping her eyes closed.

 “ I wish I could come that easily”.

 “I haven’t before”, said Bernie, opening her eyes to look at Serena, who turned on the bedside lamp so that she could see Bernie’s expression.

 “Haven’t what? Come that easily or come at all?”

 “At all. I mean only with myself”.

 “You said you’re not a virgin, so..?”

 “Technically, no. I did have sex with a guy at uni after a party, but it wasn’t like with you.”

 Serena sniggered “Well, no, how could it be?”

 “What about you?” Bernie asked, propping herself up on her elbow to look Serena in the eyes.

 “Me? Ah, well I think I have a reputation as a bit of a femme fatale, but it doesn’t always work so well. They usually come too fast and I need more than that.”

 “And Paul?”

 “Yes, he’s the latest. He likes to go down on me but it takes ages to come, so sometimes I fake it”.

 “What about when you touch yourself?”

 “Oh no problem there, but the guys don’t seem to do it the right way. I was thinking that maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

 Bernie smiled and brushed a lock of Serena’s hair out of her eyes tenderly. “I’m sure there’s not. You have plenty of time to find out”.

 Suddenly, Bernie’s stomach began to rumble. “I should go”, she said.

 “No, don’t go Bernie, please. I’ll feed you but you can stay with me tonight. It’s late, I don’t want you to go home alone”.

 Bernie thought for a minute, and the idea of staying with Serena, sleeping with her, was irresistible.

 “OK, but I’ll have to leave early, I have a tutorial at 8.30”.

 “Then that’s settled”, said Serena, jumping up and heading for the kitchenette.

 After a quick supper of omelette and salad with red wine, Serena said “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed. I’ll put a towel out for you and a T shirt to wear”.

Bernie washed the dishes while Serena showered and then took her turn in the small bathroom. She was fascinated by Serena’s expensive bath products, taking the top off several and sniffing. Finally settling for the soap, which had a mild, soft fragrance. She was contemplating how to brush her teeth when Serena yelled “Use my toothbrush, it’s OK”.

 When Bernie came out of the bathroom, pink from her shower, Serena was already in bed, wearing a silky kind of nightdress. Bernie slid in next to her. There was just room for the two of them to lie side by side.

“God, Bernie, you’re so beautiful”, said Serena, stroking her blond curls, her deep brown eyes making Bernie melt inside. All she wanted to do was kiss and touch Serena, but she wasn’t sure what the rules were. Serena had touched her, made her come, as a sort of experiment, but she seemed to be straight and Bernie didn’t want to presume, and ruin a growing friendship.

 “We should sleep”, said Bernie, trying to block the wave of desire that was rising in her.

 Serena smiled and kissed Bernie softly on the lips. “Goodnight then”, and she turned over, her back to Bernie, pulling Bernie’s arm around her.

Bernie lay in the darkness, her arm around Serena, fingers just brushing the bottom of her breast, inhaling her clean, soft scent. The feeling of want intensified until Bernie could hardly bear it, but she dared not make a move. Over her shoulder Bernie could see the digital clock’s luminous face showing 01.30. “The witching hour”, thought Bernie, remembering their previous encounter. Without realizing, her hand had moved a little higher on Serena’s breast, and suddenly she felt Serena’s arm shift and her fingers cover Bernie’s hand to cup her breast and squeeze. Bernie thought her heart might stop. Was this real? She squeezed again experimentally, feeling the lush fullness of Serena’s breast, and finally rubbing her finger over the nipple, which was hard. Serena moaned and squeezed Bernie’s hand again, so Bernie began to pinch and roll the nipple, her desire surging and overwhelming her previous reticence. Suddenly Serena rolled onto her back and pulled Bernie down into a kiss.

Bernie could feel her self-control slipping as she slid her tongue into Serena’s waiting mouth, feeling Serena’s hands in her hair, tugging as they kissed passionately. Serena reached blindly for Bernie’s hand and pulled it back to her breast, squeezing, as Bernie followed her lead, stroking Serena’s erect nipples through her silky nightshirt and, when they came up for air, moving down to bite and suck her nipples through the fabric. Serena twisted herself free and with a single motion, pulled off her nightshirt, immediately pulling Bernie’s head down again. Bernie felt a frenzy building as she caressed Serena’s warm, fragranced skin, squeezing, nipping and sucking wherever she could until Serena whispered “Bernie, please”, and took her hand to move it down to her stomach. Bernie nervously began the journey south, pushing down Serena’s knickers, which she impatiently kicked off, and gently exploring the damp curls on Serena’s lower belly until Serena simply took her hand lower and pushed her fingers so that they entered her.

“Like this?” asked Bernie, moving her fingers gently up and down in Serena’s wetness. “I need you inside” whispered Serena as she bucked against Bernie’s fingers so that Bernie pushed another finger inside and began a harder motion, brushing Serena’s clit each time her fingers withdrew. Serena was arching her back and moaning, pushing herself hard against Bernie’s fingers to get more friction. As Bernie got into the rhythm she extended her thumb to rub against Serena’s clit and within seconds, Serena was crying out, her whole body stiffening as she came, clenched hard around Bernie’s fingers, her hand over Bernie’s, holding her in place as she spasmed and twitched with the orgasm.

Serena lay still for several minutes, panting, Bernie’s hand still stuck inside her. Bernie was overwhelmed with affection and desire, seeing Serena so open and vulnerable, but she dared not move or speak in case that was not what Serena wanted. Eventually, Serena opened her eyes and shifted so that Bernie could remove her hand from between her thighs. Bernie smiled at her and, raising her fingers to her nose murmured “Mm, even better than Guy Laroche”. Serena was quiet for a moment.

“Why can I do that with you but not with boyfriends?” she asked.

Bernie had no answer other than to suggest that maybe Serena was trying too hard with men whereas she felt less pressured with Bernie. Serena smiled and gently kissed Bernie on the lips. “I don’t know, Bernie, but you’re lovely. That was amazing, and now we should sleep”, and, putting her nightdress back on, Serena snuggled into Bernie and fell instantly asleep.

 


	5. I Was Always On The Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie has her first interview with Serena and is later invited by Ric to join the staff at Albie's, where she and Serena connect again, this time acknowledging a shared past, but agreeing not to reveal it to anyone else.
> 
> The title of the chapter is from "You" by Ten Sharp.

**April 2016**

Leading the way out of Pulses with her coffee, Serena heads for the lifts, Bernie just behind her. Standing side by side as they ascend is like torture for Bernie. There’s something so familiar about Serena- her velvety voice with the headmistressy tones, her height and figure, her hair, cut short, close to the neck. Bernie dares not look into her eyes. The first look they exchanged had shaken her profoundly. “ _It can’t be_ ”, she keeps thinking, as the memory of those eyes refuses to leave her. In the lift she keeps her own eyes hidden behind her fringe, hoping that Serena won’t look too closely, but knowing that it’s delaying the inevitable.

Serena crosses the floor into AAU and guides Bernie into her office, ignoring the signs and gestures from Raf and Fletch as she closes the door. Putting her coffee down on the desk, Serena goes to sit behind it and gestures to the chair facing her for Bernie to sit. Still clutching her cup, Bernie sinks into the chair, trying to keep her hair covering the top part of her face.

 “So, Ms Wolfe”, Serena begins, smiling warmly, “Or is it Doctor Wolfe?”

 “Well I have a PsyD, so technically that gives me the title ‘Doctor’, but in the Army I was addressed by my rank, which was ‘Major’, so I’ve never used ‘Doctor’. Here it might be confusing since I’m not a medical doctor, so we can stick with Ms.”

 “OK, so Ms Wolfe it is”, says Serena with a no-nonsense, let’s-get-on-with-it air.  “You have a rather impressive trauma background, I hear.”

 “Yes, umm, the last fifteen years I’ve been attached to the RAMC, mostly in war zones, Iraq, Afghanistan. Mainly dealing with the mental fallout from traumatic injuries among our troops, but sometimes also with the other side.”

 “Baghram?”  asks Serena, lifting a sculpted eyebrow.

 “Among other things”, admits Bernie.

 “I see. Forgive me if this seems intrusive but I’m fascinated to know how you got into this field. It’s a rather unusual career trajectory for a shrink, isn’t it?”

 “I  wasn’t always a shrink,” Bernie responds, thinking ‘ _how far back should I go_?’

“Oh really? Do tell, it sounds fascinating”, purrs Serena sitting with her arms folded -classic defensive posture, thinks Bernie- while all the time keeping a charming smile on her face

 “I got recruited by Military Intelligence out of university, and during my training the Army asked me if I would like to study Clinical Psychology. That’s how I ended up in the field”, Bernie summarises hastily.

 “I see. And what was your major at …. which university was it?”

 Bernie sees no way out. “Oxford” she says firmly, “Modern Languages” and this time she looks Serena straight in the eye, brushing her fringe back.

 Serena acknowledges the response with a small smile but before she can formulate another question, Bernie seizes the initiative.

 “And what about yourself? How did you become a Trauma Surgeon?”

 “Oh, I’m not,” says Serena. “I’m actually a vascular surgeon. There are other trauma specialists attached to this unit. As to how I became a surgeon, well, like anyone else, I came though medical school, Edinburgh in my case”.

 “Right”, she continues, “now we’ve got the background out of the way, shall we discuss the patient?”

***

The day wears on, Bernie keeping herself in professional mode, refusing to allow herself to think about Serena. Once her job on AAU is done she gets caught up in a whirlwind of requests from other wards, and a paperwork mountain to deal with. She is moving stiffly to the corridor, locking her door, when Ric Griffin, Deputy CEO, looms up and pauses to lay a hand on her shoulder briefly.

 “Drinks on Henrik at Albie’s”, says Ric, making as if to pass her.

 “Albie’s?”

 “Yes, it’s a bar down the road used by mostly hospital staff. Nice place. Henrik puts his credit card on the bar for the first hour, it’s a custom to welcome new staff”.

 “I see. And is Mr. Hanssen making an appearance?”

 “Ha! No, the man’s a bit of a recluse, but he likes us to have our fun. I’m going there now. Will you join me?”

 Reluctant to head home to a TV dinner in her bare bones flat, Bernie acquiesces, not sure what to expect.

As they enter Albie’s the mood is upbeat. There are at least 20 hospital staff there already, the music is pounding away and the atmosphere is congenial. She spots Raf di Lucca, the registrar from AAU, and the nursing lead, Adrian something, who are roaring with laughter at a joke being told in their circle. Bernie heads for the bar with Ric close behind and as she passes the laughing group she sees that it is Serena who is the storyteller, still giggling at her own punchline, glass of red in her hand, totally relaxed.  Bernie tries to remain unnoticed and squeezes closer to the bar to get the attention of the barman. Ric joins her. “Allow me”, he says, and orders two double Lagavulins on the rocks.

 “Sorry to presume”, he says, “but you look as if you’ve had a bit of a rough day, the sort that calls for more than white wine”.

 Bernie takes the whisky and smiles back at him. “Lucky guess? You’re quite the mind-reader Mr Griffin.” Ric basks in the praise, but before he can come back with a flattering rejoinder, Fletch has pushed between them.

“Major Wolfe, an honour. Come and join the only team that matters”, and he takes her elbow and guides her towards Raf and Serena. Ric rolls his eyes. Bernie can’t think of a polite way out of this, so she lets herself be escorted to a chair, next to Raf on one side, Morven on the other and facing Serena.

 “Now, people, this is our brand new Psych consultant with special responsibility for the Trauma Unit and AAU. Glad you could join us, Ms Wolfe-“

 “Bernie will do.”

 “Bernie it is. So to what does Holby owe the honour of having such an experienced Army officer among its ranks?”

 Bernie flushes. She can see Raf looking at her sympathetically, and she can see on the edge of her vision that Serena is waiting attentively for the answer.

 “Well, it’s an accident really. Until 3 months ago I was a patient here. I liked it so much that I waited till a job fell vacant”.

 “Really?” Serena. “A patient? Nothing serious I hope”.

 “Just a little roadside IED in the field- I got medivac’d and had to be patched up. But by then I’d had enough so thought it was time to try the real world”.

 Serena sees Morven framing a -probably intrusive- question and cuts in hastily.

“I’m sure Ms Wolfe- Bernie- would like to know something about the ward she’ll be mostly attached to. Why don’t you all fill her in on some of the characters we have to deal with?”

 For the next 10 minutes Raf- punctuated at frequent intervals by Fletch and Morven- entertains everyone with tales of AAU and Bernie relaxes and laughs with them all. Her great honk of a laugh makes everyone else laugh even harder, though she senses Serena’s eyes on her, watching and waiting.

After 2 double whiskies, Bernie excuses herself and heads for the Ladies’. As she is washing her hands, the door opens and Serena is there. Bernie feels suddenly brave.

“ _Qui aurait pensé_ ?"* she says, keeping her tone light as she faces the mirror still.

 _“Complètement inattendu_ ,” agrees Serena, not missing a beat. It is clear to Bernie that Serena has had more than a couple of glasses of wine, and there is a gleam in her eye that Bernie doesn’t entirely trust.

 “So how is this going to be?” asks Bernie carefully. “I mean, as colleagues? Do we start again as if we were strangers?”

 “Bernie,” Serena begins, “there’s been so much water under the bridge- 30 years, for God's sake, a lifetime - that for all practical purposes we _are_ strangers. So maybe that’s a good idea. Especially in front of our colleagues. No need to enlighten them as to our past acquaintance, don’t you agree?”

 “Oh absolutely”, Bernie replies.

“Good, so now that’s settled, allow me to say that you look great. The years have been kind”, Serena smiles sincerely, looking Bernie up and down. Bernie is starting to feel uncomfortable. Looking closely at Serena is not a good idea- those semi-concealed curves, the warm, deep brown eyes and her very cute, short dark hair make a tantalizing package. Bernie takes a deep breath and tries to keep her gaze at eye level.

“I would say the same applies to you”, says Bernie.

Suddenly Serena leans forward and gently lowers the collar of Bernie’s shirt where the top of a scar is poking out.  She touches it lightly with her fingers, looking into Bernie’s eyes all the time.

 “Spinal?” she asks

 “C5 and C6 fractures” Bernie answers curtly, her skin buzzing at Serena’s touch.  She runs her own finger briefly down her chest.

 “And a pseudo-aneurism of the right ventricle, in case you were wondering”.

 Serena drops her hand but stays close. “Ouch”, she says, sympathetically.

 “I’m guessing Guy Self did the spinal stuff?”

 “Right. And a registrar called Valentine opened my chest”.

 “I’ve no love for Guy Self but he’s a good surgeon. Ollie Valentine’s solid, too. How long ago?”

 “3 months or thereabouts.”

 “Well, I guess that makes you a walking miracle!”

 Bernie smiles wryly to cover up the fact that Serena being this close to her is making her feel anxious, and she retreats out of Serena’s body space.

 Serena’s manner immediately switches back to professional mode. 

 “I should get back, Ms Campbell,” Bernie says, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible.

 “Right, OK, and I’ll just…” Serena nods towards the toilet.

Bernie leaves the bathroom and rejoins her colleagues, where she finds a finger of whisky still in her glass.

 “Whose turn is it to go to the bar?” asks Raf.

 “That would be me”, says Serena, stepping smoothly into the group. “Same again everyone? Bernie?” 

“Oh no”, stammers Bernie, “I really have to get home”, and she drains her glass and stands, groping for her coat. At this moment the music changes to an 80’s hit and Bernie winces, making a great effort not to look at Serena. As she says her goodbyes, thanking her colleagues  for a lovely evening, Serena is gathering up the glasses and shoots a glance towards her. For a moment their eyes meet.

  _It's all right with me_  
_As long as you_  
_Are by my side_

Bernie can feel a lump in her throat. There’s an expression in Serena’s eyes that she can’t quite read.

 _Talk or just say nothing_  
_I don't mind your looks never lie_

“Good night then, Major,” Serena says softly as Bernie turns away, crossing the floor as  swiftly as she can and brushing an errant tear from the corner of her eye.

 _I was always on the run_  
_Finding out what I was looking for_  
_And I was always insecure_  
_Just until I found_  
  
_Words often don't come easy_  
_I never learned_  
_To show you the inside of me_  
_Oh no my baby_  
  
_You were always patient_  
_Dragging out what I try to hide_  
  
_I was always on the run_  
_Finding out what I was looking for_  
_And I was always insecure_  
_Until I found_  
  
_You, you were always on my mind_  
_You, you're the one I've been living for_  
_You, you're my everlasting fire_  
_You're my always shining star_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translation:
> 
> Qui aurait pensé ?- Who would have thought ?
> 
> Complètement inattendu - Completely unexpected


	6. No One On Earth Could Feel Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Bernie invites Serena over for dinner to try to work out what is going on in their relationship.
> 
> The song for the chapter is "There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)" by the Eurythmics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting deeper into "E" territory here as our two young ladies set out to explore the limits of their mutual attraction. I'm trying to capture what it was like in the '80s to discover a same sex attraction- that heady mix of the totally new and unexpected combined with the thrill of secrecy, of taboo-breaking. Plus a hefty dose of confusion!

**Paris, 1986**

Since Bernie had stayed overnight with Serena, they had kept in touch by agreeing to meet twice a week for lunch in the university canteen. The Faculties of the Sorbonne were dotted around Paris, and each had its own “restaurant universitaire”, known familiarly as the “Restau-U”. Students bought tickets that they could use in any of the canteens belonging to their university, so Bernie and Serena would meet in the one closest to where their lectures or a shared library was situated.

Gradually, they became firm friends. Serena soon discovered that Bernie knew very little about popular music and delighted in teasing her and trying to educate her about pop stars. Bernie realised that, although Serena was a scientist and wanted to become a doctor, she really struggled with Maths, so often she would pass her Maths challenges to Bernie, who solved them easily, despite being a languages student.

Whenever they met there was an undercurrent of something that remained unspoken. They had not repeated the sleepover, and Bernie was aware that Serena was still seeing her boyfriend, Paul. Serena still flirted shamelessly with Bernie, and hugged, kissed and touched her, as French women tended to do, which only increased Bernie’s feeling of desperation. She wanted to get Serena on her own, to try to find out if this was an authentic mutual attraction, or just a kind of behaviour that Serena had adopted while she was away from home in an attempt to be daring and cool. Bernie was not so cut off from reality that she had not noticed that lesbianism was becoming fashionable in some quarters. There were two girls in her class at the university who quite blatantly held hands and kissed in public, and no one seemed at all shocked or concerned. There were also several gay boys in her department who made no move to conceal their preferences, and sought to define their sexuality through flamboyant dress and mannerisms. She had seen this in her own university back in England with boys, but the female scene was new to her. She wondered whether Serena had been influenced by the more glamorous aura that surrounded lesbians in France- and the only girls Bernie had so far seen publicly displaying the sexual nature of their relationship were good-looking style icons oozing self-confidence and quoting Simone de Beauvoir and Kate Millett.  She also wondered if this was a phase on the journey to sexual maturity, and whether Serena was on that same journey.

Bernie was aware that she was far more attracted to women than men- or rather, since she had met Serena she was only attracted to her. She felt miserable, always counting the days until she could see Serena, and then spending the days afterwards analysing their interactions to see whether there was anything she could seize on as proof of Serena’s feelings towards her. Whenever Serena talked about her sexual activities with Paul, Bernie wondered if she was being true to herself or just playing to the gallery. After a couple of weeks, she decided that they needed to clear the air, so during one of their canteen lunches, she shyly asked Serena if she would like to have dinner with her in her flat on the coming Saturday.

 Serena’s response was typical “What? Berenice can cook? I don’t believe it. This I have to see”.

 Bernie blushed and admitted that, while her cooking was not as good as her French, she could nevertheless knock out a perfectly decent spaghetti bolognese if that would suit Princess Serena.

 “Oh, Bernie, you know me, I just like food, even that slop at the Restau-U, so as long as there’s plenty of red wine to wash it down, I’ll eat anything”.

  “So that’s a yes?”

 “Yes, yes, of course, _chérie”,_ and Serena leant over and kissed Bernie exaggeratedly on the cheek.

 “I was invited to a party by those gorgeous Tunisian friends of Sami’s, but I can give it a miss to sample your cuisine, of course”.

 Bernie breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. She had planned the menu, and bought plenty of the wine she knew Serena liked to drink, and even some of her cigarettes.

When Bernie woke up on Saturday morning, she felt restless and frustrated, wondering why she so craved Serena’s touch- or, more urgently, why she always wanted so much to touch and kiss Serena. When they were alone there was a low level buzz  as if a power switch had been turned on, and she wondered whether that was why Serena tended to choose their meetings in public places. Her agreeing to come alone to Bernie’s flat for dinner was quite significant.

 Bernie spent the day cleaning and tidying her small apartment and shopping for the things she needed for their dinner. In addition to the spaghetti, she had prepared a good salad, and she had bought a French apricot tart for dessert. When she heard Serena’s ring on the doorbell, her heart gave a little flip. She buzzed her up, and opened the door of her flat so that Serena could enter by herself.

 “Anyone there?” called Serena as she pushed the door open.

 “Come in”, called Bernie, “I’m just finishing the sauce”, as she added oregano, salt and black pepper to her Bolognese.

 Serena appeared behind Bernie in the kitchenette, closing the door as she did so. She dumped  her coat on the sofa bed and came to stand behind Bernie, kissing her softly in greeting on the side of the neck and waving a bottle in front of her.

 “ _Mon Dieu,”_ she exclaimed, “ _Ça sent vâchement bon!*_ _‘’_

  **“** Is that a note of sarcasm I can hear?”  asked Bernie, turning her head slightly.

 “No, no, really,” Serena laughed, “I’m actually starving and it smells divine”.

 Bernie turned from the stove to take the bottle from her and met Serena’s sparkling eyes. Serena was wearing a simple, form-fitting black velvet dress with three- quarter length sleeves and a deep vee. Bernie caught her breath as she took in the swell of her breasts, which so complemented her trim waist.

 “Um, we’re in France, so, aperitif?” Bernie asked, putting the red wine down and holding up a bottle of Ricard.

 “God, no, sorry, can’t stand that stuff,” said Serena. “Do you have any Campari?”

 Bernie frowned, to hide her swoon over Serena’s appearance, and dug into the cupboard above the sink.

 “Um, the previous tenant left half a bottle of Campari. I’ve never opened it but it seems OK”, producing the bottle.  Serena took it from her and went to the fridge for ice and lemon. She opened the top of the Campari bottle, gave it a cautious sniff, then poured.

 “Join me?”

 “I’ll stick to Ricard”, said Bernie, wrinkling her nose. “Now, all I have to do is boil the spaghetti, so are you ready to eat?”

 “God yes, bring it on”, Serena drawled, taking her glass and going to sit at the small table where Bernie had lit a candle.

 Serena was fiddling with the cassette player, inserting a tape she had brought with her.Soon the strains of the Eurythmics filled the room.

  _No one on earth could feel like this_  
_I'm thrown and overflown with bliss_  
_There must be an angel_  
_Playing with my heart_

 Bernie put the spaghetti into the boiling water, setting the kitchen timer carefully, then she took her drink and came to sit opposite Serena.

 “I love this song”, Serena said.

 “So do I but let’s turn it down a bit, eh? Don’t want that old witch downstairs to start banging on the ceiling”, said Bernie, turning the volume knob.

 Serena’s eyes were bright and she fixed them on Bernie, the warmth of her gaze bringing a flush to Bernie’s cheeks.

 “Those are super cute dungarees”, she commented, sipping her Campari, inclining her head towards the close fitting, stylish denim garment Bernie was wearing with a skimpy striped T-shirt.

 “Thanks”, muttered Bernie, “and I love your dress”.

“This was my mother’s,” laughed Serena, looking down self-consciously at her semi-exposed bosom. Bernie had the feeling Serena knew exactly what she was doing, and she felt a spasm of lust go through her as she imagined pulling down the neckline of the dress. The air immediately became thicker as Bernie struggled to keep her feelings under control, and neither spoke for several seconds. Then Serena said “I didn’t know if I should dress up a bit or not”.

 “What? Dress up for me?” asked Bernie, astonished.

 “Well, you know,” Serena pitched her voice a little lower “in case you had anything special in mind”.

 “Like?”

 “Well a nightclub after dinner, or…”

 “No, no”, Bernie interrupted her. “I just wanted to spend some with you alone, to talk”.

 “That’s fine, too”, smiled Serena and she reached over and gave Bernie’s hand a squeeze.

 At this moment the little kitchen timer emitted a shrill shriek and Bernie jumped up to turn it off and serve dinner. When she came back bearing two steaming plates, she saw that Serena had got the corkscrew and opened the bottle of wine.

 Serena was extremely complimentary about the food, finishing her portion with relish and even taking more sauce and parmesan cheese on top. Bernie served the salad, French style, after the pasta. As they scooped up the last of the leaves, Serena gave a sigh.

 “Oh I’m stuffed! I have to go and lie down”

 “No room for dessert?”

 “Maybe later”, and she picked up the bottle of wine and took it and her glass over to the divan, where she lay down, putting the wine on the side table.

“Now turn that main light off and come over here and tell me what it is you want to talk about”, she invited, seductively.

 Despite the constant thrum of desire that plagued her whenever Serena was near, Bernie felt herself getting tongue-tied. She had planned to be in control, to manage the timing so that she could approach the subject with confidence, but as usual, Serena was reeling her into her magnetic aura like a fish hooked on a line. The candlelight created a more intense intimacy, and in an attempt to keep a little distance between them, Bernie sat at the end of the bed, out of kissing range and not quite meeting Serena’s eyes.

 “I like you, Serena”, she began, to which Serena immediately responded “And I like you, too, Bernie”. Bernie shook her head, peering through her fringe, “No, I mean I, I MORE than like you, Serena. God I’m bad with words”.

 Serena sat up and took one of Bernie’s hands in hers. “Go on” she said, her face now serious.

 “Well, that’s it”, said Bernie hopelessly. “I mean, I like you in a..an inappropriate way”.

 Serena didn’t speak for a minute, then she gently turned Bernie’s face to hers and kissed her softly on the lips.

“There’s no such thing as an ‘inappropriate’ way”, she whispered. “I more than like you, too, Bernie. I really like kissing you, you’re a great kisser. What’s wrong with a little affection between close friends, eh?”

Bernie didn’t know what to say. This was not what she meant. Or not exactly. Either Serena was deliberately choosing to misunderstand her or this was just some sort of game to her.

 “But what if…what if we were more than just close friends?” she asked

“How can we be more than close friends?” asked Serena, quirking one eyebrow. “That’s what we are, close friends. Now prove it to me by kissing me again, you’re driving me crazy sitting there.”

 Bernie leaned forward and, taking Serena’s head between her hands, fitted her lips to Serena’s, kissing her as deeply and as sensuously as possible. Serena moaned as she opened her mouth to admit Bernie’s tongue, and she kissed her back fiercely, clutching her shoulders and digging her fingers into Bernie’s upper arms as they moved against each other. Finally, Bernie came up for air, panting. Serena’s eyes were black, her pupils enlarged. She took Bernie’s hands away from her head and pulled Bernie down to lie alongside her. As she did so, her dress rode up exposing a tantalising expanse of thigh. Bernie shifted onto her side and put her hand deliberately high up on the inside of Serena’s thigh, feeling her immediate shudder and hitch of breath, which told Bernie everything she needed to know. _Maybe I’d be better showing her than trying to explain_ , thought Bernie.

 Serena looked down to where Bernie’s hand had touched her inner thigh and, meeting Bernie’s deep warm gaze, she said, provocatively, “Go on, then”. Bernie needed no further encouragement and moved her body up to kiss Serena again, her hands going immediately to her breasts where she pulled down the neckline of the dress and exposed an erect nipple which she rolled experimentally between her fingers.

 “Jesus, Bernie”, whispered Serena, writhing, her arousal evident as Bernie squeezed and stroked the exposed breast, trying all the while to get at the other one until Serena, constrained by the dress, half lifted herself and guided Bernie to undo the zip and lift it over her head. The lacy black bra was next as Bernie dived into the warm pillows of  Serena’s breasts, fascinated by the dark brown of her nipples and their hard tips, sucking them into her mouth and grazing them with her teeth until Serena was almost breathless. She was lying on her back, clad only in a pair of black translucent tights and a tiny pair of bikini briefs, as Bernie swept her hand suddenly downwards, snagging the elastic of the nylons and tugging them off. Serena helped her, eyes squeezed shut, pushing with her feet, as Bernie hovered over her.

 With Serena pliant and desperate under her, Bernie felt she was surfing a giant wave of tenderness, an all-consuming need to show Serena exactly how she felt about her. She returned to kiss Serena deeply while lightly stroking her sides. She could feel Serena trying to move against her, to get friction, so she manoeuvred a slim thigh between Serena’s and let her grind against it for a while, feeling the wetness against her skin, yet never giving quite enough pressure.

Slowly, Bernie began to travel down Serena’s body, kissing her soft, lightly perfumed skin  everywhere, revelling in the strong thump of her heartbeat, exploring her ribs and teasing the skin around her navel until Serena was pleading with her, but Bernie ignored her and continued to move slowly and sensuously towards her core. When she reached the top of Serena’s knickers, she paused, brushing her chin gently against Serena’s mound, smelling her arousal, while Serena impatiently pushed a hand down to remove the soaked underwear. Now she was open and exposed to Bernie’s gaze. Bernie had never seen that part of another woman before. In fact, despite the recent craze for women to look at themselves in the mirror, she had hardly looked at herself at all, not thinking it all that interesting. Now, studying Serena, she was fascinated by the shape of her labia, the pink of her inner lips and the glistening bud of her clitoris, all pleading for Bernie’s caress. Their eyes met in the candlelight as Serena looked down questioningly when Bernie paused. The gaze Bernie threw back at her  drew a gasp almost of disbelief before she closed her eyes again, abandoning herself to Bernie.

Bernie dropped her head and ran her tongue softly along the opening of Serena’s sex, feeling her shudder. She had been worried about the taste, but Serena tasted  clean, slightly sweet and salty, an addictive tang that had Bernie reaching deeper and deeper with her tongue, discovering a richer, more complex taste the deeper inside she pushed. So absorbed was she in tasting, she only gradually became aware of Serena’s cries, of her hips twisting and thrashing as she strained towards orgasm. Bernie put up her hands to hold Serena’s hips steady, then she gave  her clit several firm strokes with her tongue, finally sucking on it until she felt Serena’s muscles clenching and unclenching, heard her moans and cries, was rocked by her spasms as Serena’s thighs alternately squeezed and relaxed around Bernie’s ears. Finally she lay still, panting, and Bernie lifted her head, Serena’s juices all over her face, her ears ringing from having been submerged between Serena’s thighs. Serena’s hand came down to caress Bernie’s head as Bernie made her way slowly back up to Serena’s mouth. When they kissed, Serena opened her eyes in the full, shocking realisation of what she was tasting.

 Bernie was still fully clothed and pulsing with desire. Feeling, hearing, seeing Serena come apart like this was so overwhelming that she had almost come herself. They lay side by side, breathing heavily, as each tried to process what had just happened. Bernie turned her head to see Serena looking at her with an almost pained expression.

“Take your clothes off”, Serena whispered, “and hold me”. Bernie didn’t think she had ever undressed so fast in all her life. They climbed under the covers and embraced tightly, Serena running her hands all over Bernie’s body, finding her breasts small and firm, nipples rock hard and super sensitive to her touch as she caressed and sucked them. But Serena didn’t linger, she sensed how keyed up Bernie was, and in less than a minute her clever fingers had brought Bernie to a shuddering, trembling conclusion. As her inner walls contracted hard around Serena’s fingers, Bernie held Serena tightly, trying to communicate the depth of her emotion.

They dozed for a while, wrapped around each other, then Serena suddenly sat up and said “What was that about dessert? “

 Bernie laughed “ _Tarte d’abricots”_

“Then what are we waiting for?“ and Serena jumped up, pulling her dress over her head, not bothering with underwear.

 Bernie looked at her, tousled and utterly gorgeous in the candlelight, and blinked in surprise. Then she got up, put on her bathrobe and went to serve the dessert.

***

 “Yum”, Serena said, licking her fork clean as they finished the last of the tart.

 “Yum”, agreed Bernie. “It tastes nearly as good as you,” peering coyly at Serena, who flushed at her words.

 “I don’t know how you can do that”, Serena said, lighting a cigarette and sitting back in her chair. “I mean, I know guys do it, but a woman, that seems weird”.

 “So you didn’t like it?” asked Bernie, holding her breath.

 Serena sighed but her honesty won out. “You know I did. I can’t exactly pretend I didn’t. But God, Bernie, what is it about you that makes me so turned on? I’ve never come like that - so hard or so easily -with a boyfriend. What do you know that they don’t?”

 Bernie was silent for a moment, crushed that her strategy had backfired. She couldn’t find the words to say what she really meant, she didn’t even know if she knew herself what she really meant.

 “I’m a woman, so I understand how a woman’s body works”, she said finally.

 “Yeah, I get that. But my other friends don’t have that effect on me.”

 Bernie looked at Serena for a long moment, but all she could see was a little pouty attitude, as if Serena was somehow annoyed with herself.

 Stifling her disappointment, Bernie got up and cleared the plates. The tape had long since finished so she switched off the cassette player. She could hear Serena in the bathroom, splashing water.

 “Are you staying? “she asked, when Serena came back into the room.

 Serena smiled and sat on a chair, suddenly pulling Bernie into her lap and ogling her breasts, partially exposed where the bathrobe gaped.

 “You have the best tits”, she breathed, sliding her hand inside and cupping the small, firm breasts. Bernie wrestled herself free, feeling her sex begin to throb again.

 “If that means yes, then I’m going to wash and brush my teeth and we can go back to bed”, she said, making for the bathroom while Serena sat in the same position on the chair just looking at her.

 “Have you got a T-shirt or something?”, Serena called.

 When Bernie emerged from the bathroom wearing her own long T-shirt, she threw another one to Serena, and a pair of briefs. Serena stood up and pulled her dress over her head, standing completely naked in front of Bernie before pulling on the nightshirt. She handed back the briefs.

 “I don’t think these will be necessary”, she said, winking. “I mean, why ruin another pair?”, and she climbed into bed, patting the space next to her.

 Bernie gulped and slid her own clean underwear down her legs, stepping out of them before getting into bed. The lights were off, but the candle still burned.

 Bernie felt words rising up in her that she could not articulate, so she turned to Serena and pulled her into her arms, nuzzling her neck and smelling the familiar perfume. They lay embracing and kissing, their bodies pressed tightly together until Serena pulled one of Bernie’s legs between her own and put her own leg between Bernie’s so that they were thrusting against each other slowly at first, then gradually with more urgency. Bernie could sense Serena getting closer and she tried to hold back to keep pace with her.

 “Come on, Bernie”, whispered Serena, “I’m nearly there, just a little harder- Ohhhhh!” as she felt the rush, grabbing Bernie’s bottom to push her more firmly against her own leg. The sounds Serena was making tipped Bernie immediately over the edge, and they lay shuddering together, breathing heavily. The slide of Serena’s sex on her thigh made Bernie aware of just how wet she was, and as she moved off to lay next to her, Bernie rubbed her fingers on her leg and brought them to her nose, inhaling the delicious scent. She vowed not to wash her fingers for a week.

 “Are you OK with this?”  murmured Serena finally.

 “OK with what?”

 “You know, with us doing this, having sex, I suppose”.

 There was no supposition involved as far as Bernie could see. If this wasn’t sex, and very good sex, too, she didn’t know what else it could be called.

 “It’s nice” she said cautiously, not sure what Serena was trying to communicate.

 “It is. Really nice. But are you OK with us carrying on with it, I mean if we want to?”

 Bernie was nonplussed. Serena made it sound rather as if they were practising a sport.

 “Carrying on… you mean in the future?”

 “No, silly, I mean now, in the present, while we’re here in Paris, until…well,” she gave a little laugh, “until we get bored or fed up with each other”.

 Bernie didn’t think she would ever get bored with Serena or with having amazing sex with Serena, in fact, it was pretty much all she wanted to do, all the time.

 “Of course I am”, was all she said.

 “OK, so blow out that candle, and let’s get some sleep.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Ça sent vâchement bon!" - "That smells really good!"


	7. Who's Gonna Drive You Home Tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena's paths cross more often and Bernie finds out something about Serena's home life and her relationship with Robbie. Serena tries to be friends with Bernie but stirs up memories that Bernie doesn't want to deal with. Bernie seeks help from an old friend but gets advice she isn't sure she can take.
> 
> The song for the chapter is "Drive" by the Cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've demoted Robbie to DS rank, can't think anyone will be too troubled by that! And I've played with the timeline so some of the canon things are happening much closer together.

**April, 2016**

When Bernie goes into work the day after her encounter with Serena, she has used a technique to push her memories of Paris into a locked box in her mind that can’t be opened when she is at the hospital. She is tensed up ready for contact, but Serena must have been on an evening shift because, despite being called to AAU a couple of times, she doesn’t run into her.  She discovers, by listening to her colleagues talk among themselves, that Serena has an ex-husband who seems to be a bit of a liability. She also catches references to boyfriends, so Bernie’s assumption is that since leaving France, Serena has stayed on the straight path.

 It’s not until the third day that she bumps into Serena, and then, it’s in the hospital car park. Bernie pulls her car into a parking spot, only noticing as she gathers her things and prepares to open her door, that the car parked in the adjacent slot contains two people seemingly  locked in a passionate embrace. Bernie clambers out, trying not to look, and as she walks away, clicking her key fob, the door on the far side of the other car opens and Serena climbs out, patting her hair. When she sees Bernie, she blushes very red, but can hardly deny seeing her, so she calls out “Good morning, Ms Wolfe”.

 “Ms Campbell”, acknowledges Bernie, moving off. With her longer legs, Bernie easily outpaces Serena so it is easy enough for Serena to hang back to avoid having to walk with her. When she reaches Pulses, however, there is Bernie in the queue, so Serena has no choice but to go and stand next to her. Still feeling embarrassed and fiddling with her pendant, she makes an attempt to open a conversation.

 “Here we are again, then. Do you live nearby?”

 Bernie half turns. “I do now. I just rented a small flat in Grove Gardens. Before that I was coming in from near Keynsham”.

 “Family there?”

 “Ah, soon to be ex- husband.”

 “Oh, another member of the embittered ex-wives club! Welcome to the fold,” says Serena.

 “Yours was a bad divorce, I take it,” smiles Bernie at her tone.

 “Horrendous, but fortunately a long time ago.”

 “Mm. Children?”

 “One daughter aged twenty-one. You?”

 “A son aged twenty-five and a daughter aged twenty-one. Both at uni.”

 “So is Wolfe is your married name? I seem to remember a Bernie Thomas.”

 “Um no, actually. My full family name is Wolfe-Thomas, bit of a long story there. I decided it was too much of a mouthful so I dropped the last bit after I graduated from Oxford. And I didn’t take my husband’s name when we married”.

 “I see. So, divorce and a daughter  the same age. Maybe we have a few things in common”, Serena suggests, as they reach the head of the queue.

 Bernie smiles briefly and places her order “A large latte, with an extra shot please, and … what are you having, Ms Campbell? Let me get yours”.

 Surprised, Serena gives her order, then as Bernie turns back to her she says “Thank you. And Serena is fine.”

 Bernie meets her gaze frankly for a few seconds, as if debating whether or not to argue about it.  “Very well, Serena it is”.

 They take their coffees and walk towards the lift. Serena pushes the button for AAU’s floor, and Bernie just stands, sipping her coffee.

 “I’m going to AAU to collect a file on the patient I attended to yesterday”, she explains.

 The doors open and they walk out together.

 “Lead on then, Ms Wolfe”, says Serena, gesturing for Bernie to go ahead.

 “Bernie is fine”, says Bernie as they pass the nurse’s station and a quizzical Fletch watching them.

 “OK Bernie, and the coffees are on me next time”, says Serena, turning into her office.

 Hearing this, Fletch gives a low whistle, caught by Raf, who is nearby looking at his computer screen.

 “Hear that?” mutters Fletch. “Seems like the ladies have hit it off. That’s ten quid you owe me”.

 “Just give it a bit longer, you’ll see I’m right” replies Raf.

 Bernie takes the paperwork back upstairs to her office and is kept busy by this and calls from other wards until mid-afternoon, when Fletch calls her to go to AAU urgently. When she arrives, she finds Fletch and Morven trying to restrain a dishevelled looking woman who is shouting and crying, handcuffed to a plain clothes detective.

 “Bernie, thank God”, says Fletch.

 “What’s going on?” asks Bernie, alarmed to see the patient has blood running down her face and is clearly distressed. The policeman is standing by smugly, looking as though he is enjoying himself. He is late forties, stocky, with a stubbled jaw and wearing a leather jacket.

 “You’re a liar!” shouts the woman. The detective grins.

 “DS Metcalfe”, he says by way of introduction. “This is Daisy”, nodding at the woman handcuffed to him. “Habitual offender, breach of the peace. Usually alcohol-related. But this time she bashed her own head against a wall, so we need to assess her for injuries before taking her to the cells. Don’t want to be sued, after all”.

 “Isn’t this somewhat beneath your pay grade, detective?” asks Bernie, eyeing the handcuffs with distaste.

 “She’s a gyp…..a member of a traveller community we’ve been investigating for various crimes in the local area”, he says by way of explanation.

 “I called you”, says Fletch to Bernie, “because it seems to me that the patient is exhibiting signs of mental distress. We need to calm her down before we treat her.”

 “Take those handcuffs off her”, Bernie orders sharply.

 DS Metcalfe bristles. “It’s for her own protection- and yours”, he says.

 Bernie eyes him coldly. “I don’t need protecting”, she says, “this lady is not going to harm me. And I will make sure she doesn’t harm herself.”

 “Daisy?” she asks, and the woman nods tearfully, the blood running from her nose now dripping onto her blue cardigan.

 “Fletch, get some tissues”, says Bernie calmly. “OK Daisy, we’re going to get you out of these things and take you to another room to look at your injuries. My name is Bernie and I’m going to help you calm down so that we can find out what’s going on”.

 She looks at Metcalfe and says “Keys, Detective Sergeant”.

 Metcalfe fishes reluctantly in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out the handcuff key, releasing Daisy, who, dabbing her nose with a wad of tissues, goes meekly with Bernie and Morven to a treatment room.

 Once they have gone, Metcalfe turns to Fletch and asks “Where’s Serena?”

 “In theatre”, replies Fletch, “but she should be back shortly.”

 As he speaks, the lift doors open and Serena comes into the ward still wearing her aqua scrubs.

 “Robbie!” she exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

 “Bringing in a drunk for treatment”, he grins.

 “Oh? Where?” asks Serena, looking at Fletch. 

 “Treatment room one”, replies Fletch, his eyes never leaving Serena’s. Serena glances at Robbie, then makes her way to the treatment room, where Morven is cleaning up Daisy’s face and trying to stop the nosebleed, while Bernie is talking to her calmly.

 “Everything OK here?” asks Serena, noting that Psych has been called.

 “Yes, Daisy is just a little bit confused after banging her head”, says Bernie. “I’m trying to find out what happened and why”.

 “OK, carry on, Ms Wolfe. Morven, you do a physical assessment and then let me know what you both think,” and she leaves the room.

 Bernie and Morven quickly establish that Daisy is not under the influence of alcohol, that she is exhibiting signs of being bi-polar and that she has no apparent medical record with the hospital or a local GP practice.

 “I’ll order her a head CT then I think we’d better keep her in for tonight to monitor her,” Serena decides, when they bring their findings to her.  “We’ll do a full Psych assessment tomorrow.  DS Metcalfe will have to wait to interview her, and there may be no case for her to answer”.

 Bernie goes back to tell Daisy what is going to happen, and as she crosses the ward on her way to the lift, she sees Serena talking to DS Metcalfe in the doorway to her office. They seem to know each other quite well. She hears snippets of the conversation.

 “We’re going to keep her in overnight”, Serena is saying, “so I’m afraid you’ll have to leave her with us for now.”

 “Well that frees me up for you, then, darlin’” says Robbie. “I’m off duty after this. What about dinner?”

 Bernie doesn’t hear Serena’s response, but it is clear from her body language that Serena has rebuffed Robbie. She makes to enter her office, but Robbie stops her. He has his hand in the pocket of his jacket and brings out something that looks like a small piece of black material.

 “By the way, you left these”, he says, extending his hand. Serena’s face goes an immediate deep shade of crimson, and she snatches the item from Robbie and retreats into her office, closing the door firmly behind her. Bernie has been unable not to see this exchange, and though Robbie had his back to Bernie, Serena’s eyes met hers briefly, shame and humiliation flashing in them before she turned away.

 Bernie feels a stab of revulsion. How could someone of Serena’s refinement and obvious charm and intelligence be involved with this oafish policeman? He must have been the one she was kissing in the car park that morning.

 For some reason, the exchange bothers her more than it should. It stays in her head as she returns to the 6thFloor, but once she has completed her paperwork and is on her way out, she sees Serena also making for the exit. Forcing a note of joviality into her voice she asks conversationally whether Serena is planning to join her colleagues at Albie’s. Serena has a harried look about her and she finds it difficult to look Bernie in the eye.

 “No, not tonight”, she says. “I have to get back for my nephew. He has Asperger’s and needs a fixed routine. Tonight is fish and chips night, so I need to get to the shop on time”. She gives a small sigh.

 Bernie has a wave of genuine sympathy for Serena, but, not wanting to probe further, she wishes her good night and heads for her own car.

***

 The following morning, Bernie arrives early to complete her assessment of Daisy, then takes her report down to AAU, where there is a case meeting to discuss the treatment plan. As she heads for Serena’s office, she sees DS Metcalfe sitting on a chair outside.

 “Back again, Detective Sergeant?” she asks briskly.

 Robbie scrapes his knuckles over the stubble on his face and says “Waiting to take the patient off your hands”.

 “Could be a while”, says Bernie, stepping into the office where Serena, Raf and Fletch are already poring over a file.

 “Psych assessment”, she says, putting it down on Serena’s desk and taking a chair. As she glances at Serena she notices the dark shadows under her eyes and her general air of lassitude.

 At the end of the meeting, Fletch is tasked with contacting a relative who can come to give Daisy support, and Raf goes to tell Robbie that the medical evidence doesn’t support drunkenness or a wilful breach of the peace and that Daisy needs treatment rather than incarceration in a police station. Bernie seizes the opportunity to ask Serena if she has had breakfast yet.

 “Chance would be a fine thing,” she retorts. “I was paged first thing for an RTC and haven’t stopped since”.

 “Then let me get you something, I was going for coffee anyway. Black no sugar? Pastry?”

 “How well you know me already”, says Serena drily. “ That would be perfect”.

 On her return, Bernie sees Robbie and Serena having an intense conversation in the corridor. As she passes, head down, she hears Serena say “I’m sorry, Robbie, but my mind is made up.” Robbie’s body language expresses his frustration and disappointment.

 Bernie enters the office and puts the coffees and a pastry for Serena on the table, hesitating for a while, wondering if she should just leave or whether it would be better to stay and offer Serena some support. Just as she decides she may be outstaying her welcome, the door opens and Serena comes in. Her face is flushed but she smiles briefly at Bernie as she sits in her chair facing her.

 “Just what the doctor ordered”, she declares, sipping her coffee. “Ahhh!”

 “Would you like me to go or…stay and talk?”

 Serena’s eyes express a certain relief as she says “Do stay. I think we’re due a little break after all that, don’t you?”

 “I couldn’t help noticing that your relationship with DS Metcalfe seems rather strained”, Bernie ventures.

 Serena sighs heavily. Then she says, averting her face.

 “He wants us to move in together, but the problem is that he doesn’t get on with Jason. He has no patience for him. Jason’s a lovely young man but he can be very…challenging. His mother died and I only discovered I had a nephew recently. When his carer had a stroke, I took him to live with me and I wouldn’t change that for the world. Jason and I now come as a package, but Robbie doesn’t want that. I’ve had to break it off with him, there’s no way I would abandon Jason now.”

 “I am sorry to hear that”, Bernie says gently. “It can’t be easy”.

 Serena lifts her eyes to Bernie’s, seemingly hesitating, then a spark of mischief appears in them.

 “Well, that wasn’t the only reason I broke it off”, she says. “Of course, Jason comes first, but I have to admit it made it all the more convenient. Yesterday was the last straw.”

 “You mean…?” Bernie isn’t sure how to say this diplomatically.

 “What you saw”, Serena admits. “Robbie has absolutely no tact. Bringing my underwear into the hospital and handing it over in front of my colleagues being a classic example”.

 Bernie murmurs “Quite”, but when she looks at Serena, she sees her grinning, so she smiles back, the atmosphere noticeably warming.

 Serena then looks down at the pastry and exclaims: “ _Pain au chocolat_! How did you know that was my favourite?”

 “Lucky guess?”

 Serena pauses with a piece of pastry halfway to her mouth. Then, pitching her voice lower, her eyes crinkling at the corners she says “Remember those _mille feuilles_ in Paris?” 

 Bernie almost chokes on her coffee, hit by a painful jolt of memory that she struggles to suppress. “How could I forget?” she mumbles, “but whatever happened to ‘water under the bridge’?”

 Serena is quickly contrite, Bernie’s stricken expression leaving her in no doubt that she has overstepped a boundary.

 “I’m sorry”, she says, “you’re quite right. That was inappropriate”.

 Bernie finishes her coffee and stands up.

 “Well, thanks for the chat, Serena”, she says, tossing her coffee container into the waste paper basket. “But I must get on”, and she walks to the door, pausing only to say goodbye.

 Serena’s face shows both surprise and sadness at this abrupt departure.

 “Yes, yes, I mustn’t keep you. And that’s twice you’ve got coffee for me, so next time it’s definitely my turn.”

 Bernie gives a small smile and goes out, closing the door. There is no sign of Robbie, and everyone looks busy so she walks to the lift as quickly as possible, pushing down the panic rising in her chest.

 Once safely back in her room she knocks her head against the door, berating herself for not being able, despite all her training, to push the memories away, and for allowing Serena to see her weakness. Part of her wants desperately to be this Serena’s friend, but another part keeps reminding her of how much the young Serena hurt her, and how her life might have been quite different if she hadn’t been running from that hurt for so many years. Sometimes she can easily pretend that she and Serena have just met and are forming a new friendship. Then something happens- a memory surfaces- and she feels crushed by the weight of that past. She wonders if this was a mistake coming to work at Holby City Hospital, but she needs the job and the salary. The rest of the day looms terrifyingly. She looks at her appointment schedule then reaches for her phone.

 ***

 “So how’s the job going, Bernie?”

 “Sorry for dragging you out, George”, says Bernie, “but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about”.

 Colonel George McQuarrie (retired) takes in at a glance Bernie’s deeply unsettled, flustered look.

 “It’s always a pleasure, Bernie. Now that I’m retired I’m finding the days rather too long sometimes. A lunch date gets me out from under Anette’s feet,” he twinkles. Then he reaches over and pats her hand.

 “You seem troubled. Tell me about it.”

 With much hesitation, and over the pub’s home-made soup and wholemeal rolls, Bernie outlines the problem.

 “So, you see, I don’t know if I can stay in the job. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

 George puts down his tea cup.

 “Bernie, that girl I met almost 30 years ago was a fragile, deeply disturbed individual. It took me five years just to find out what had happened to trigger all that anxiety. I watched that young woman overcome her insecurity and develop into a highly competent Intelligence officer and mental health professional. You can self-diagnose, you know you’re strong enough. That’s not the problem.”

 Bernie hangs her head in silent acquiescence.

 “So you tell me, Doctor, what needs to happen now?” George asks.

 “I need to confront the past”, she says, meeting his steady blue gaze.

 “You haven’t seen this woman for thirty years and you’ve never been able to ask her why she walked out on you with no explanation. Now you have the opportunity", he says.

 “I..I just can’t face it. We agreed it was best left in the past, but..”

 “It’s not”, George says grimly. “It’s still with you, it’s been your own personal albatross for thirty years.  Time to let it go, Bernie”.

 Bernie nods, her eyes filling with tears.

 “I know, it’s too much”, George says sympathetically. “Especially now- the divorce, your accident, the kids. But it’s just another of those challenges that life throws us. We can’t always choose the perfect moment.”

 “No.”

 He pauses, then: “But maybe this IS the perfect moment.”

 “What do you mean?”

 George looks at her steadily, not breaking eye contact.

 “Do you remember when you said to me how life would be wonderful if only you were brave enough?”

 “Ah, yes, after Alex”. 

 “Right. And you let Alex go.”

 “She wasn’t the one.”

 “And Serena?”

 Bernie takes a sharp intake of breath. “No, no, she can’t be….. she’s the one who decided to leave. And she wants to keep it that way”.

 “How do you know, Bernie? “

 “That’s what she said. Water under the bridge, she said.”

 “Do people always say what they mean?”

 “No, but why would she…? I mean how could…?”

 George smiles. “Has it ever occurred to you, Bernie, that maybe YOU were the one and she just wasn’t brave enough?”

 Bernie’s face goes red, her brain close to exploding.

 “No, you haven’t. But admit it, it’s a possibility. One you should consider. And if you intend to keep on working with her, I think it’s there to be explored, don’t you? After all, you’re both single, times and attitudes have changed. There’s nothing stopping you.”

 Bernie has lost the power of speech.

“Don’t look so terrified. If she isn’t interested then you have closure-just put the whole thing behind you and move on. But if there’s something there it would be a shame not to seize the opportunity”.

 He pats her hand.

 “I can see this is a lot to take in, but think on it. And let me know how it goes”.

 ***

 Bernie drives back to Holby deep in reflection, Radio 2 in the background.

 _Who's gonna tell you when_  
_It's too late_  
_Who's gonna tell you things_  
_Aren't so great_

 _You can't go on_  
_Thinking nothing's wrong_  
_Who's gonna drive you home tonight_

 She parks and goes back up to her office, still thinking about what George said. Could he be right? Was it even a possibility? This is even more terrifying than confronting outright rejection.

 The afternoon passes in a whirl of appointments and the usual mountain of paperwork demanded by the NHS.

 Bernie doesn’t have to go back down to AAU but as she is leaving, she sees Serena standing in front of an empty space in the car park. There is broken glass on the ground.

 “Problem?” asks Bernie.

 “As if the day couldn’t get any worse”, says Serena grimly. “My car’s been stolen”.

“Let me drive you home”, says Bernie. “You can call it in on the way”.


	8. Time After Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Easter holidays approach, Bernie has to move to Germany to finish the school year. Serena has a suggestion that results in them taking their holiday together- with her mother.
> 
> Song for the chapter is "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper.

**Paris, 1986**

The music was loud, clouds of hashish smoke covering the hall with a bluish haze. The rock concert seemed to have attracted the entire student body of Paris. The mood was buoyant, and even Bernie, hardly the world’s most ardent partygoer, was enjoying the vibe.

 “Here,” Serena, looking spaced out and relaxed, handed her a cigarette hand-rolled to twice the normal length with a filter of cardboard.  Without thinking, Bernie took a drag, drawing the smoke into her lungs, then coughed and spluttered.

 “What the hell is that?”

 “Hash, baby”, sang Serena, taking Bernie’s shoulders and trying to make her dance. Bernie handed it back wordlessly.

 “Oh, don’t be like that _”_ Serena pouted, while Bernie wrinkled her nose and said “Not my thing”. She took another swig from her beer bottle to kill the taste.

 “So what _is_ your thing?” asked Serena suggestively during a pause in the music. Bernie just looked at her, pupils dilated, naked desire radiating from her. On stage the band took a break and the DJ put on a popular disc. On hearing the opening bars, Serena handed the joint to someone else and put her arms round Bernie’s neck as Bernie’s arms came around her waist and they swayed in time to the music.

  _If you're lost you can look and you will find me_  
_Time after time_  
_If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting_  
_Time after time_

“Don’t look at me like that in public”, whispered Serena in her ear. Bernie couldn’t answer. The Easter holidays were approaching and after that she would be going to spend her final term in Germany, far from Serena. She clutched Serena tighter to her, their breasts rubbing together, and applied gentle pressure to her hips to connect her deeper. They couldn’t kiss in public, but at a concert where everyone was wasted, dancing close didn’t attract attention.

 Suddenly Paul appeared and tapped Serena on the shoulder. She raised her head.

  _“Tu veux partir?”_ he asked. His eyes were hooded and he was swaying on his feet.

Serena shook her head. _“Pas encore, c’est chouette, la musique. Je veux danser.‘’_

  _‘’Bon, d’accord, moi je me’en vais, je suis crevé.’’_

_‘’Vas-y, je te reverrai dimanche.’’_

And Paul was gone, not even noticing that Serena was draped rather intimately around her girlfriend.

 “What’s going on?” asked Bernie unable to hear anything much above the music

 “He’s going home. He’s wasted. I told him I wanted to stay and dance, so now we have the whole night together. I’m not seeing him till Sunday”.

 Bernie hugged her closer but Serena disentangled herself and, taking her hand, said “Follow me”.

The ladies' toilets in the student concert hall were full of girls repairing their make- up, smoking joints and, judging from the noises coming from one of the stalls, suffering the consequences of overindulgence. Serena took one look and pulled Bernie round the corridor to where there was an unlocked store cupboard. It smelled strongly of cleaning fluid and there were dirty mops leaning against the wall, but Bernie hardly paid attention as Serena slammed her against the wall, wedging a mop bucket and mop against the door to prevent anyone from coming in.

 “ _J’ai tellement envie de toi”_ she whispered, kissing Bernie around the neck. “ _Baise-moi_ _, Bernie”._

Gasping, Bernie took hold of Serena’s hips and reversed their positions. In seconds her fingers had found their way down the front of Serena’s jeans, her hand constrained by the tough fabric. Serena struggled to undo her trousers to give Bernie access. As Bernie’s fingers sank into her wetness Serena cried aloud, smothering the sound in Bernie’s shirt. Bernie felt like she was in a dream, the beer, all the hash smoke, the charged atmosphere in the dance hall and now a desperate Serena writhing against her. She tried to focus on her strokes -two fingers inside, not too fast, curling them a little. Serena was gasping “More”, so she added a third finger and increased the pace, the heel of her hand pounding Serena’s clit with each thrust. With her left hand she gently pinched Serena’s nipple, wondering how long she could maintain the awkward position. Her hand started to cramp but Serena was there, coming in great shudders and groans, her face pressed to the soft fabric of Bernie’s shirt as her muscles contracted powerfully around Bernie’s fingers.

“Wow, you do know how to show a girl a good time”, she breathed, as Bernie slipped her fingers out and withdrew her hand, putting both arms round Serena and kissing her deeply.

 Serena broke the kiss and refastened her jeans.

 “We can’t stay here. Let’s go back inside. I’m going to the loo so you go on ahead. Grab us another beer.”

 They made their separate ways back into the concert hall. Bernie thought one of the French girls she knew was looking at her rather strangely, but she flashed her a smile and went to the bar. The French girl, whose name was Mylène, suddenly appeared at the bar, turning to Bernie to say, in French.

 “Are you all alone?”

 While Bernie was thinking of a suitable response, Serena materialised next to them and grabbed the bottle from Bernie’s hand, taking a long swig.

 “Not exactly”, said Bernie, “I came with Serena”.

 Mylène looked at the two of them, then snapped her fingers.

 “You’re that English girl from the Science faculty”

 “Half-Scottish”, corrected Serena. “And my mother’s French”.

 “So, what? You _Anglaises_ just stick together and don’t mix with us?”

 “What?” exclaimed Serena, outraged. “Of course not. I have lots of friends here”.

 “But Bernie has been with you all evening and never came to say hello to us even once. Isn’t that right, Bernie?”

 Bernie had her mouth open in astonishment at this unexpected attack, but Serena was on top of it.

 “Don’t be ridiculous”, she snapped. “Bernie probably couldn’t even see you in all this crowd and smoke. We just happened to arrive together and we were dancing on the floor with everyone else”.

 “Maybe you need to give Bernie some space to mix with her friends a bit more”, Mylène suggested, giving Serena a look of disdain and walking away.

 Serena was furious. “Who the hell does she think she is?”

Bernie thought for a moment, then she said. “Oh, I know what this is. Last week they invited me for tea after class, but I was meeting you at the Restau-U so I gave them the brush off. They keep asking me to hang out with them.”

 “So why don’t you?” asked Serena.

 “Because I’d rather be with you”, said Bernie simply.

“Look”, Serena sighed. “I really like you, Bernie, you know I do. And I love the time we spend together, but you need to be careful. Go and make some other friends, let them see that you’re normal-“

 “Normal? What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean”, her voice had hardened. “What we do in private is not what we do in the real world, get it? No one else can know about that, so if you want to carry on seeing me, we have to pretend to be like them”.

 “And have boyfriends?”

 “Yes, or at least, other friends. Why do you think I stick with Paul ? Sure, I like him, but to be honest, I would much rather have sex with you. It’s what I do to keep my credibility- and to distract people so they don’t notice us spending so much time together “.

 Bernie’s face was a picture of disappointment, so Serena said “Hey, come on, let’s go back to your place. Don’t let them get to you”.

 ***

 Bernie came to consciousness slowly as  weak sunlight edged under the blinds. Serena was asleep on her back, naked. Bernie remembered that they had not bothered with nightclothes, had just fallen into bed around 3am after a quick shower to get rid of the smoke, sweat and stink of beer. She looked at her watch- 9am then she looked at Serena’s breasts.  Despite the temptation to stay in bed and wake Serena up slowly, she thought about Serena’s breakfast and quietly got up, tugging on some knickers, jeans, a sweater and her trainers, and she ran down to the pâtisserie below, hoping she wasn’t too late.

Serena slept through Bernie’s exit, her return and even the sound and smell of the coffee pot bubbling on the hob. Bernie took off her outer clothes and put on her bathrobe. She went to lie down again next to Serena. She looked so peaceful, like a child. So far, Bernie knew three Serenas. The worldly friend, who liked to tease and joke with her, who made her laugh and and helped her in so many ways; then there was the sharp, sarcastic one who could freeze the smile off a person's face with a few choice words- if she were honest, Bernie was a little afraid of this Serena, having seen her in action a few times, although she had not had the treatment yet herself. Thirdly there was Serena her lover, who couldn’t get enough of sex with Bernie, who told her over and over how much she loved Bernie’s body and what Bernie could do to hers. Under Serena’s tutelage, Bernie had grown in self-confidence, and in self-knowledge. She knew exactly what to do to turn Serena into a shivering, helpless wreck. She knew how to tease her, keep her on edge for hours before bringing her to a swift, explosive release. She knew what Serena needed when she had her period- gentle stomach rubs, camomile tea, one hand between her legs, the other gentling her swollen breasts, rubbing softly through her clothes to give her relief.

They had been together for almost three months, but the time was fast approaching for a separation. Bernie sighed as she looked at Serena, feeling all her emotion rise up into her chest and block her throat. As she gazed down at her, Serena opened her eyes.

 “I can feel you looking at me”, she croaked.

 Bernie reached for the glass of water by the bed and wordlessly handed it to Serena, who propped herself up to drink, her eyes never leaving Bernie.

 “ _Quelle heure est-il?”_

“9.20.”

 “Oh, _merde_ … the pâtisserie will have run out”.

 “No, I got them”, smiled Bernie.

 Serena’s face was a picture of joy. She took Bernie’s face between her hands and gave her a smacking kiss on the lips.

 “I love you, Bernie, you’re my angel!”

 Bernie blushed with pleasure. 

“Oh don’t sit there, let’s have breakfast”, exclaimed Serena, jumping up and pulling on the bathrobe she had left at Bernie’s.

Bernie reached for the bag containing two still warm _millefeuilles_ , the rich vanilla custard oozing out between the layers of flaky pastry, topped with a sweet, chocolate-swirled yellow icing. Bernie put them on plates and carefully cut each one into four slices with a sharp knife, trying not collapse them. She handed Serena a fork and poured coffee and milk into 2 large cups.

 “Orgasm on a plate”, declared Serena. “This is my main reason for staying here. Oh, and you, of course”, she smiled, patting Bernie’s hand.

 “Do you really mean that?” asked Bernie. “So what will you do when I go to Germany?”.

 Serena frowned.

 “I have to finish this year and pass. Then back to London for more exams in June, and if I get my grades, I have a place at Med School in October.”

 Bernie nodded. June, that was so near.

 “Do you know yet where you’ll be in Germany?” asked Serena.

 “I got my posting yesterday. Konstanz, down on the Swiss border. I’ll have to leave Paris during the Easter holiday to get settled in”.

 Serena paused for a moment, fork in the air. Then she beamed.

“You’re never going to believe this! My mother’s cousin is married to this guy in the French military stationed  in Friedrichshafen. That’s just about 20 miles from  Konstanz on the Bodensee. They’re always asking us to go and visit. Mum’s coming over at Easter, so I’ll persuade her to take me to visit them. Then we can hook up!”

 “With your Mum?” asked Bernie, a little incredulous, totally unable to imagine her own mother visiting and meeting Serena.

 “Oh my Mum’s OK. A bit of a snob, that’s all. But my Mum’s sister and her family we’re going to see first in the Franche-Comté are absolutely fine, as are the ones in Germany. Hey, you can come with me, meet my family, and we can go to Germany together. What do you think?”

***

 Adrienne McKinnie was waiting at the station in Belfort when Serena and Bernie arrived, having travelled ahead from London.

 “Serena, _ma fille_ ”, she said, kissing Serena on both cheeks, French-style.

 “Hi Mum”, said Serena, kissing her back and then pulling away to introduce Bernie.

 “ _Enchant_ _ée_ _,_ Madame McKinnie”, said Bernie nervously, seeing a well put -together lady in her late forties with piercing dark eyes not unlike Serena’s own.

 “Nice to meet you”, said Adrienne in English, with barely a hint of a French accent. “Is that all you’ve got to take to Germany?” indicating Bernie’s single large suitcase and woven knapsack.

 Bernie smiled. “I travel light”, she said.

 “Not like my daughter”, sniffed Adrienne, eyeing Serena’s two heavy holdalls with distaste.

 Adrienne led the way outside to the borrowed family Citroen 2CV parked in the station yard. She handed the keys to Serena.

 “You may as well start driving now, seeing as we have to go all the way to Germany in this contraption next week”.

 Serena rolled her eyes as she happily took the keys. “Dad’s got a Volvo,” she whispered.

 Bernie grinned and hoisted her luggage and Serena’s into the boot and had to put one of the holdalls on the back seat. She then climbed into the back, letting Serena’s mother ride up front.

 Serena fired up the engine, and they were rolling, none too fast, towards the village where they would spend the first part of the holidays.

Fortunately for Bernie, Adrienne was much too interested in Serena to pay attention to her the first day. She quizzed Serena mercilessly in both English and French about her studies, her boyfriend and her life in Paris. Serena tried to shrug it off but Bernie could see that she was exasperated by the questioning.

On arrival in Adrienne’s family village, her sister, Tante Céline, showed Bernie and Serena to a double room on the top floor of the house. Serena winked at Bernie behind her aunt’s back as they hauled their luggage into the room.

 “Are you girls OK sharing a bed?”  Tante Céline asked. “The boys have the twin room, so I only have a spare double bed.”

 “It’s absolutely fine”, Bernie assured her.

 “It’s a wonderful room, Tante,” smiled Serena. “We’ll be very happy here”.

 There were 8 people round the farmhouse -style table for dinner. In addition to Bernie, Serena and Adrienne, there were Tante Céline and her husband, Oncle Marcel, who owned a chain of garages in the area; their twin sons Etienne and Julien, who were 14, and Serena’s cousin, Martine (known as 'Tinou') who was 18 and in her last year of high school.

 “Such a shame Douglas couldn’t come”, lamented Tante Céline, referring to Serena’s father.

 “I know,” sighed Serena. “I miss him so much, but he’s so busy. That’s what being a surgeon means- being absent at most family events.”

 “But you, Serena, you’re planning to do the same?” asked Martine, raising her eyebrows.

 “Serena’s planning to read Medicine after this year at the Sorbonne, yes”, interjected Adrienne. “But as for being a surgeon, well, that’s a long way off. She’s probably more suited to being a GP if she decides on Medicine for a career at all.”

 Serena glared and made a gesture at her cousin to shut up. Bernie was much amused at this. The food and wine were excellent and plentiful, the meal long as all the catching up was done over the dinner table, and after stuffing herself with the home-made _tarte tatin,_ Bernie felt herself yawning as coffee was served.

 “You’re tired, Bernie _?”,_ asked the ever-vigilant Martine. “If you want to go to bed, that’s fine. I can show you the bathroom and how the shower works”.

 Bernie made her excuses and went upstairs with Martine, relieved to escape  from all the family chatter.

 Serena came in forty minutes later, when Bernie was already showered and in bed. She had taken her small cassette player and favourite tape from her suitcase and was quietly playing music as she read her book.

“Oh Bernie, I’m sorry it took me so long!” Serena apologised as she came in the room and flung herself down on the bed next to Bernie. Bernie could see that Serena had taken rather too much advantage of the excellent local wine.

 “Bloody relatives- why are they so nosey?”

 Bernie smiled, “Get ready for bed. By the way, where’s your mum’s room?”

 “Why?”

 “Because you’re noisy and we don't want her to get suspicious.”

 “She’s downstairs at the opposite end of the corridor, don’t worry about her, she’d never suspect a thing. Her idea of illicit romance is the Milk Tray man  shinning up the wall and getting through the window at night”. She rolled her eyes.  “No, the reason we have to be quiet is my cousin Tinou. She’s too sharp for her own good. And she’s next door!” she giggled, rolling over to clutch Bernie.

 “Shhh! Go and get washed”, Bernie whispered.

 When Serena came back in her nightshirt, Bernie was drowsy, fighting to stay awake. Serena climbed into bed and turned off the light.

 “What about the tape?” she asked.

 “Leave it,” said Bernie sleepily. “It’ll turn itself off.”

 Serena rolled immediately into Bernie, rucking up her nightshirt and fastening her mouth to her nipple. Bernie felt the pleasure start deep in her core, little ripples zipping into her stomach, her chest, relaxing her as she hugged Serena closer, drinking in her familiar smell, holding her breath as the fingers strayed below her navel, seeking her arousal, circling her clit, sending sharp stabs of pleasure to her brain, Cyndi Lauper crooning on in the background.

 _Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick_  
_And think of you_  
_Caught up in circles_  
_Confusion is nothing new_  
_Flashback, warm nights_  
_Almost left behind_  
_Suitcases of memories_  
_Time after…_

 _Sometimes you picture me_  
_I'm walking too far ahead_  
_You're calling to me, I can't hear_  
_What you've said_  
_Then you say, go slow_  
_I fall behind_  
_The second hand unwinds_

 _If you're lost you can look and you will find me_  
_Time after time_  
_If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting_  
_Time after time_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> J’ai tellement envie de toi= I want you so much  
> Baise-moi = fuck me  
> Quelle heure est-il?= What's the time?  
> Merde= shit


	9. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena gets suspended for a week and in the process makes a surprising discovery about Bernie's recent past. Bernie meets Jason, and things seem to be going well until a misunderstanding creates mistrust between Serena and Bernie and it takes a crisis situation to heal the rift.
> 
> Song for the chapter is "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know whether psychologists still have fish tanks in their consulting rooms (although all the dentists I know still seem to have them in their waiting rooms!) but it's a nice image! As is Serena on the couch.......
> 
> Apologies from this point onwards for any unintended misrepresentation of the field of clinical psychology- I'm not a doctor or a shrink so just suspend your disbelief if it seems unlikely!
> 
> As I post this I realise that here we are at the end of 2018, and I am in south-east Asia on a Saturday night with my windows open, hearing Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" coming from the bar across the road. More proof, if it were needed, that 80's music lives forever!

 

**April, 2016**

If trying to adjust to Jason’s inflexible schedule isn't enough, on top of her increasingly stressful shifts, having her car stolen is the last straw in a shitty week for Serena. It was strange, sitting in the passenger seat of Bernie’s little Mazda, remembering the last time they had sat in a car together, the old 2CV, trundling round the Bodensee, the sun flashing through the trees, smoking French cigarettes, Bernie’s hand on her thigh as she drove, Cyndi Lauper on the cassette player. _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_. 

Bernie drove swiftly and well, faster than Serena might have liked, but she got home in plenty of time to cook Jason’s dinner. As she was about to get out of the car, she had a sudden urge to invite Bernie in to join them, but Bernie’s body language, gripping the steering wheel, engine still on and in gear, suggested she was on the way to somewhere else, so Serena simply smiled and thanked her for the lift.

 “You’re very welcome”, she said, turning to Serena, her expressive eyes showing warmth which seemed to penetrate right to Serena’s core.

 “Can I pick you up tomorrow morning? That is, assuming you probably still won’t have a car”.

 “That would be very kind”, said Serena.

The shitty week is made shittier still by the discovery the following morning that her stolen car had an NHS laptop in the boot, loaded with confidential information. By ten am, Serena is suspended for a breach of data regulations and, with no car, decides to call a taxi. Before leaving the hospital, however, she wants to tell Bernie in person that she will be absent for a week.

She taps on Bernie’s office door. There is a long silence, then Bernie comes to the door and opens it just enough to see who is there. Her face is blotchy and she seems agitated.

 “Serena!  What is it?”

 “Are you in the middle of something?” asks Serena

 “I..er..not exactly”, Bernie hedges, opening the door a little wider but not inviting Serena inside. Over her shoulder, Serena can see a slim, dark haired woman pacing. Her body language is giving off the same kind of agitation as Bernie’s and Serena can sense an intimacy between them that she is clearly interrupting.

 “Look, sorry for intruding.... I just need to tell you that I’ve been suspended. I rather foolishly left a laptop in the boot of my car- data regulations, you know.  OK, so..” she starts to stammer in her haste to finish the message and leave Bernie to her personal crisis.

 Bernie steps outside, pulling the door to behind her and pushes her hair out of her eyes, obviously making an effort to project a calm exterior, to distance herself from whatever was happening a moment ago.

 “I’m so sorry, Serena. What can I do to help?”

 “N…nothing, it’s just that I wanted to tell you myself that you should report to Ric Griffin, he’ll be covering me. I’ll ..I’ll go now”, and she turns away.

“Have you got transport home?” Bernie asks, and Serena is touched by her obvious concern at a time when she probably has other more important things to deal with. She notices that Bernie has mascara smudged a bit under one eye. Has she been crying?

“Yes, don’t worry, I’ve called a taxi. Take care, I’ll see you next week.” And she retreats quickly down the corridor, wondering what could have distressed Bernie so. Surely not a patient? She has never seen Bernie anything but totally calm and collected even when dealing with the most disturbed patients.

Serena gathers her things and goes outside to wait for her Uber. To her annoyance, the driver cancels when he is 5 minutes away and she has to rebook. This time the ETA is 10 minutes, so she is still outside when the woman she has seen in Bernie’s office suddenly comes out of the hospital and stops next to her, looking at her phone. She has obviously been crying, and she swipes at her eyes as she tries to see the screen.

“Fuck”, she murmurs. “All cars busy”.

 Serena overhears and her curiosity is aroused. She approaches the woman saying “Are you trying to get an Uber?”

 “Yeah, but there’s none available”.

 The woman has a soft, northern accent.

 “I’ve just managed to get one- not easy, the previous driver cancelled. Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

 The woman now turns and looks at her properly. She is still tear-stained but definitely attractive, mid-thirties with bright green eyes.

 “Um.. I’m not sure. I’m headed for the station. Where are you going?”

 Serena tells her the station is on her way, so the woman thinks for a minute and says “OK, thank you. I’m Alex, by the way.”

 Serena extends her hand “Serena. I’m a consultant here. Are you a patient?”

 “No, not at all. Just visiting a friend.”

The taxi arrives and both women climb in the back, Serena reprogramming the journey to take them via the station. She wonders if Alex will figure out that she was the colleague at Bernie’s door, but she shows no sign of recognition.

“You seem a bit upset. Is your friend very ill?” Serena tries.

 Alex seems startled, then she says “No, no it’s not that. Just..we were in a relationship, and we broke up. I know it’s for the best but it’s still…”

 “A bit raw?” Serena suggests gently.

 “Yeah, definitely”, and Alex sighs and wipes tears from her eyes with her sleeve. Serena finds a pack of tissues in her bag and passes them to Alex.

 “Cheers”, Alex says, taking one.

 “It’s OK. Keep the pack. You may need them.”

 Alex blows her nose and seems to recover a bit.

 “It’s not like we were ever going to make it in civilian life, I knew that, I was always aware. But that doesn’t help when it comes to the crunch”.

 “Civilian life -you’re military?” asks Serena

 “I’m in the RAMC. Just finished two tours in Afghanistan.”

 “Right and your er friend…? Same thing?”

 “We were both in Afghanistan with the same unit. But now she’s been discharged so she’s back here. That’s why we split. She wants to make a new life.”

 “I see”. A pause. “I take it you’re a doctor if you’re in the RAMC?”

 “I’m an anaesthetist, specialising in trauma surgeries.”

 “Gosh, we could do with a few like you here at Holby,” Serena laughs. “And what rank are you?”

 “Captain.”

Serena’s mind is doing overtime. Bernie and this woman in the Army. Bernie was a higher rank, Major, so this must have been a clandestine relationship in more ways than one. Could this be why she got divorced? But then, why split with Alex?

 “So what now? Back to your unit?”

 “Yep. 5 Rifles, based in Wiltshire. Just had a month’s leave. Going back to Kabul tomorrow. The last tour.”

 The car pulls into the station and Alex prepares to get out.

 “Thanks for the lift, Serena. And for listening.”

 “My pleasure. Take care, Alex. And good luck!”

***

During her week of enforced idleness Serena can’t stop thinking about the attractive brunette in the RAMC. From what Bernie has told her, she had imagined that Bernie, like herself, had gone straight after their adventure in France, done the whole marriage and kids thing. This changes the picture.

 Serena can’t deny that Bernie is having the same sort of effect on her as she did thirty years ago. There’s something undefinable that draws Serena to her. She can see Bernie with a man, a husband and children, but the thought of her with another woman, even one as obviously nice as Alex, makes Serena feel ill. She wonders if Bernie is out as gay, or whether these are just short affairs she keeps quiet. She wonders if Bernie has another lover already, can hardly imagine that someone as devastatingly beautiful and intelligent as Bernie could be single for very long. She wonders what Bernie thinks of her now. Serena carries so much guilt from that time that she doesn’t think she deserves Bernie’s forgiveness. And from Bernie’s reaction to her, she can see that the memories are painful. Serena simply never imagined that their lives would be thrown together again, or that she might have to justify a 30 year old decision that she had never comfortably lived with, despite the passing of time. It’s a level of perplexity that habitually smooth operator Serena Campbell has not previously encountered.

 The day before her return to duty, at 6 in the evening, there is a knock at her door. Serena is in the kitchen preparing Jason’s dinner.

 “Can you get the door, Jason?” she yells, thinking it must be someone collecting money.

She hears his heavy tread as he goes to the front door, then a murmur of voices. The conversation seems to be taking a while so Serena wipes her hands on her apron and turns to see what’s going on. To her surprise, she sees Bernie entering the kitchen with Jason.

“Auntie Serena, this is your friend, Bernie. I invited her in because you always say it’s rude to leave friends on the doorstep, and I knew you were busy in the kitchen.”

 Serena is flustered but she says “Yes, Jason, that was absolutely the right thing to do. Come in, Bernie, grab a seat. I was just cooking. Cup of tea?”

 “No, Serena, it’s fine, I was just passing to see whether you had your car back or needed a lift tomorrow.”

 “Auntie Serena”, Jason broke in, “if you start drinking tea and chatting with Bernie it will make dinner late, so why don’t you invite her to join us? You always make too much. Besides, she’s a clinical psychologist, that’s very interesting. I’d like to ask her some questions”.

 Serena rolls her eyes, “You‘re very welcome to join us. It’s only shepherd’s pie, I’m afraid, but Jason is right, we have more than enough.”

 “Are you sure, Serena? I wouldn’t want to put you out”.

 “You’re not putting us out”, interrupts Jason.

 “Well, in that case…”, and Bernie takes off her well worn leather jacket, revealing a plain white shirt and her usual skinny jeans.

 “Now what can I do to help…?”

***

As Bernie drives home that evening she feels more settled than she has in a long time. Serena’s suspension, coupled with the surprise goodbye visit from Alex, had thrown her off balance somewhat. Working with Ric was by no means unpleasant, although they tended to butt heads on occasion, but after her conversation with George, she had been ready to try to see Serena in a new light. Finally, she decided she would take the first step towards proactively building a relationship with her. The very pleasant evening- excellent home cooked food that she can’t remember ever enjoying so much, a glass of Serena’s favourite Shiraz, and the refreshing insights of Jason, who quickly bonded with her over dinner, discussing methods of hypnotism, and the episode of Countdown that he and Bernie aced, much to Serena’s embarrassment, all this made for a comfortable family style evening that Bernie had become estranged from over the years.

Once Jason had gone to bed, she and Serena sat with cups of tea talking about work. They kept the conversation in the present, and Bernie updated Serena on the changes that had taken place during her absence.

 “So, you see, I thought I should come and warn you,” Bernie said shyly.

 “I don’t see what there is to warn me about. We’re colleagues, I have no problem in sharing an office with you. But what about your patients?”

 “Oh, the thinking is to have me attached to AAU permanently rather than up with the rest of Psych on the 6thfloor. They’ve converted one of the treatment rooms to a Psych consultation room. You know, pale green walls, fish tank…”

 Serena started laughing  “..couch?”

 Bernie joined in with her great honk. “It’s more of a chaise longue, actually, but yes, you get the picture”.

 “So when I’m all stressed out from NHS paperwork and having to deal with 36 phone calls a day from Jason, can I come and lie on your couch and watch the fish go round and round in the tank?”

 “ _You can lie on my couch any day_ ” Bernie was about to say, but then blushed and looked down. “You’d be most welcome”, she said instead.

“I suppose I can see their point”, mused Serena. “All that running up and down to the 6thfloor and back makes no sense. Better you’re down with us. Maybe you can fix our heads too, while you’re at it”.

 “I can hardly fix my own”, murmured Bernie, which Serena pretended not to hear.

 Finally, she took her leave, promising to come back to play Countdown again with Jason and to try more of Serena’s cooking.

 ***

The first day of their new arrangement starts well. Serena’s car has been found and is in the garage being repaired while she has a rental car for her use. She arrives feeling refreshed and ready for action, and not a little gleeful that she will be sharing her office with the delicious Ms Wolfe. She has operations scheduled for most of the morning, and is delighted to find a coffee and pastry on her desk when she arrives first thing, with a note saying “Welcome back, I’m in meetings till 10, so enjoy! B.”

 As she is returning to her office from the locker room, Serena runs into Ric.

 “Hey, Serena, good to see you back. Everything OK?”

 “Absolutely. A week off is just what the doctor ordered, even if the circumstances were less than ideal”.

 “Right. And how are you with the new..er arrangement?”

 “You mean with Psych being based in AAU?”

 “No, I mean with Bernie being in your office, checking up on you.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, Ric. Bernie’s absolutely fine, I don’t have any problems with her being there. In fact it’s good to have the company of someone with a different specialisation.”

 “Oh. So you haven’t been told?”

 Serena is getting a whiff of something decidedly fishy at this point. “Haven’t been told…?”

 “Hanssen asked Bernie to move into your office to make sure you’re still on top of things. He thinks you might be overstretching yourself, hence the data breach”.

 “But that’s nonsense”, she protests. “I took the laptop home to work on some reports. I didn’t leave it in full view on the back seat, I did lock it in the boot. “

“But in the morning you forgot to take it out. That’s what he’s concerned about.”

 “And what is Ms Wolfe supposed to do? Hourly obs on my memory?” she is getting angry.

 “I think it’s more in the way of casting a friendly eye on the way you run AAU.”

 “She’s a bloody shrink, not a surgeon. She’s not even an MD. What on earth is going on?”

 “Perhaps her specialism is why Hanssen chose her for this role,” Ric says cryptically, walking away.

Serena is speechless. She goes into her office and collapses into her chair. When Bernie comes in ten minutes later, the stew of resentment is reaching boiling point.

 “Hi Sere-…what’s the matter?” her tone rapidly switching to one of alarm as she sees the expression on Serena’s face.

 “Early onset Alzheimer’s!  Is that what they think?” she hisses.

 “I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.” Bernie sits down opposite Serena and looks at her with great concern.

 “So you came last night to ‘warn’ me about sharing my office, but just forgot to warn me that you’d been sent to spy on me! “

 Bernie stays very calm. She looks Serena in the eye and says “No one is spying on you. And even if that is what I had been asked to do I would have refused”.

 “Oh so you’re not denying that Hanssen put you here with a mission, then?”

 Bernie sighs. “I know you’re angry. To tell you the truth, I would be angry too in your place. But please believe me that Hanssen only has your best interests at heart. He asked me to share the office to give you support, not to spy on you”.

 Serena looks back at Bernie with the icy stare Bernie had seen her use on other people. _‘A first time for everything’_ , she thinks. Then Serena lets rip.

“For your information, Ms Wolfe, I have been running this ward single-handedly for a good number of years and I have never needed ‘support’. And especially not from a non-medical member of staff.”

 _'Right, here we go’,_ thinks Bernie. “Maybe it’s because I **am** a non-medical member of staff that Hanssen chose me. And I accepted for one reason alone: I knew that if I refused he would have chosen someone else. I wanted to be sure that someone had your back. And better someone who doesn’t covet your position or have designs on your ward, wouldn’t you say?”

Serena glares at her for a while as the words sink in. She can see that Bernie has a point. But she refuses to concede because Hanssen has humiliated her in front of her colleagues.

“To be continued”, she snarls, and gets up and leaves the office, slamming the door.

Bernie sighs. Serena doesn’t return to the office that morning but sits at the nurse’s station doing paperwork and taking any new cases coming in.

Bernie lunches alone in Pulses and suddenly Hanssen looms up in front of her.

 “She didn’t take it well, then?”

Bernie puts down her knife and fork. She regards Hanssen steadily for a long moment. Then she says “Henrik, if I may, I think you should have run this by Serena first and not let her find out, especially not from Ric Griffin. I quite understand your need to monitor the efficiency of your wards but you don’t want to alienate someone like Serena. I’m sure you’re aware that women have to work twice as hard as men to make it to management level, and questioning her judgement after so many years is tantamount to asking her to take early retirement. I trust that was not your intention?”

“Good lord, no,” says Hanssen, alarmed. “Serena is one of my best ward managers and I intend to keep her as long as possible. I just felt that with the workload, staff shortages and her added burden of Jason’s care, she might be letting things get on top of her. That’s why I thought you could be helpful. Maybe monitor her stress levels and help her to relax or lighten her load in other ways”.

“And if she doesn’t want that?”

 “Then it won’t work”, he says grimly. “Do you have any ideas?”

 “Leave it with me”, says Bernie.

As it happens, as soon as Bernie gets back from lunch, the red telephone begins ringing and all hell breaks loose. A busload of German tourists has crashed in the Cheddar Gorge and Holby is briefed to take the injured into the trauma unit. A call is also put out for German interpreters, so Bernie accepts the task on two counts. She has no further time to spend on solving the problem of Serena’s support, but is thrown into the mêlée as people on stretchers are helicoptered in from Cheddar. The trauma staff begin their triage and Bernie watches appreciatively as she sees how well trained and disciplined they are. The only problem is that the patients who have no English are distributed throughout the ward. The most seriously injured are unconscious or about to go into surgery so Bernie focusses on those who are conscious. She runs around to their bedsides, reassuring them in fluent German that they are  in the best possible place and that they will get the best treatment available. She notices that one of the porters, a young Austrian man, has also been sent in as an interpreter, so she gets hold of him and splits the patients between them, with her taking the more seriously wounded.

The afternoon winds on and Bernie keeps talking, reassuring people, helping them prepare mentally for surgery, noting down details of their relatives to call and generally keeping morale high. Gustaf, the young Austrian, also does his bit and between them they manage to call all the relevant people and calm the ones waiting for surgery.

Serena spends the whole afternoon in surgery and by seven pm, when it seems they have worked through the caseload, she staggers into her office and collapses in the chair. She barely notices Bernie, collapsed in the other chair, until she stirs and asks.

 “Is that all, Serena? Have we finished for the day?”

Serena turns her head and says, scornfully. “I have not finished for the day. There are six patients in recovery that I need to go and check on when they wake up. As you are not qualified to do their obs for me, you may as well go home”.

Bernie regards her for a moment, then hauls herself painfully upright and leaves the office without a word. On the way to the locker room she spots Gustaf and has a word in his ear. When those patients wake up, they will need someone to speak German to them and explain what has been done and reassure them. Gustaf is alarmed.

 “But I’m not a doctor- they’ll ask for you”.

“I’m not a doctor either, I’m a shrink. So you just translate whatever the doctors tell you, OK? Tell them I’ll be in first thing tomorrow to do rounds with anyone who needs to speak to me. Oh and make sure to tell Mr. di Lucca that he can call me at any time of the day or night if anyone needs my assistance.”

“What about Ms Campbell?”

“No need to tell her. Just make sure Mr. di Lucca knows”.

 ***

Serena finally gets home at 10 pm in a taxi, too tired even to drive. She wonders vaguely why so many of her patients were asking for the young porter and seemingly pleading with him in German for answers he couldn't give. He kept glancing at her over his shoulder and finally went and spoke to Raf, who nodded and sent him off.

When Serena arrives at the hospital at eight the following morning to do the rounds, she is surprised to see Bernie’s jacket on the coat rack, and even more surprised to find her on the ward, sitting with patients and talking to them.

“I wasn’t aware that so many patients needed Psych counselling”, she says sarcastically when she passes Bernie.  A lady in the nearest bed snags her sleeve.

“Doctor,” she says in a heavy German accent, “this lady is here since three o clock this morning to talk to us. She has explained to all of us what treatment we have and will need. She has called our relatives in Germany and arranged for them to come to help us. She also talked for a long time with Steffi” she indicates a young girl in the adjacent bed with multiple injuries, “because her father was killed in the accident. This lady has made all of us feel happy and comfortable, especially those who cannot speak English. Your English health service is good but the people have no time to talk. This lady is very important”.

There are murmurs of approval from those who have heard and understood what the patient said.

 Serena looks around and sees Raf, who has gone red and can’t meet her eye. She sees Fletch nodding sagely in agreement. Then she looks at Bernie, exhaustion written all over her face, also unable to make eye contact.

 “Ms Wolfe”, she says. “Meet me in my office in ten minutes”. The tone of her voice brooks no argument.

 When Bernie shuffles painfully into the office, she sees a large latte and a hot cheese toastie on the desk. She raises her eyes questioningly to Serena.

“I’m sorry, Bernie”, she says. “I was out of order. And I was wrong. Maybe I do need you here to support me. Yesterday and today you have provided an invaluable service to us, to the patients and our staff. It’s not your fault that Hanssen went about this in such a hamfisted way. I’m glad you’re here, so please accept my apologies.”

Bernie looks up and her smile radiates out of her like a beam of sunlight.

“If you get me breakfast like this every day, I’ll happily accept your apology”, she says.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. The Touch Of Your Hand Behind A Closed Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena seal their holiday in Germany with a memorable night, then Serena returns to Paris. 6 weeks later, Bernie returns for the long holiday weekend, but things are not quite how she imagined them to be. Could this be a sign of things to come?
> 
> The song for the chapter is "Only You" by Yazoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After last night's Holby episode I'm really sorry if this chapter causes you more pain. I had chosen the song before Lofty sang it at the wedding, so that's a bit of a coincidence, although he never sang the line that heads this chapter. I'm bashing on with this fic because Bernie Wolfe is so much more than just a character the canon writers dispensed with. Hang in there and things will improve!

**Konstanz, Germany 1986.**

 The weather, which had been perfect during the Easter holidays, changed for the worse as soon as Bernie started her course at the University in Konstanz. Serena had gone back to Paris on the train with her mother, who was heading home to London. Bernie and Serena had hugged on the platform in Friedrichshafen and stolen a kiss in the ladies’ toilet before Serena boarded.

 “What am I going to do without you, Bernie?” Serena had whispered, wiping away a tear.

 “Write to me, write everything. I’ll try to go to Paris for a weekend at Ascension- it’s a public holiday in Germany as well as France. “

 “6 weeks”, groaned Serena. “How can I manage?”

 “You’ll have to use Paul”, said Bernie, rather more waspishly than she intended.

 Serena pulled back from her a little. “Don’t be like that, Bernie. You know why I keep him around. “

 “Sorry”, whispered Bernie. “It’s just…”

 “I know”, Serena hugged her again. “Just remember last night!”

 Bernie squirmed. “How could I forget?”

 She squirmed again as she rode around Konstanz on the bicycle she had rented, the saddle rubbing the seam of her jeans in an uncomfortable way. Arriving back at her student residence, she parked the bike and removed her hooded raincape. Shivering, she ran up the stairs to her room, thinking about hot soup. On the way she passed the mail boxes and automatically reached into the one with her room number on. There was a letter postmarked Paris, addressed in Serena’s cursive hand, sealed on the back with a blob of burgundy wax bearing the stamp SWM.

  ***

It was a funny thing about language, thought Bernie. As a fluent speaker of at least two other languages apart from her native tongue, she imagined herself to be a different persona in each of them. In English she was shyer, more guarded, in French much more outgoing and bolder in the things she was prepared to say. In German she was serious and studious. Since meeting Serena in Paris she had noticed that, although they naturally spoke English together when they were alone, there were times when Serena preferred to use French. Usually in bed. At first, it seemed to Bernie as if Serena thought French was sexier, more provocative than English. Certainly it had that effect on both of them. When Serena breathed “ _baise-moi_ ”, it sounded a lot sexier than “fuck me”. But as time went on, it became increasingly clear to Bernie that Serena used French as a mask, a layer of insulation perhaps between her real feelings and the outward expression of them.

The letter Bernie had in front of her, propped on the butter dish while she spooned soup into her mouth, was a classic example of this. In the first part, Serena wrote in English of her boredom with Paris, her irritation with Paul, who had forced her to meet his parents when they came to visit, and of the predicted difficulty of her imminent exams. Then, without warning, she broke into French and into an explicit reminiscence of their time in Friedrichsafen. Bernie put down her soup spoon and took the letter over to her bed where she lay and read it again, hardly believing Serena had dared to write such things. Serena certainly wrote beautifully in French- there was a naturalness and a spontaneity about her writing that exactly matched the way she was with Bernie when they were intimate.

Bernie could feel her breathing become laboured. She unfastened her jeans and slid her hand inside, groaning when she felt the wetness just from reading Serena’s words. Images from the night they had spent in the guesthouse in Friedrichshafen came back to her. Serena’s eyes, black with lust, wide open, yet strangely tender; catching Bernie’s bottom lip between her teeth, then kissing and sucking all over her body until she settled between Bernie’s thighs. Bernie, breathless, biting the pillow to stifle her cries as Serena’s tongue swirled and swooped while her fingers sank inside, teasing, bringing Bernie to the edge time and again until she was pleading for release. Then coming in waves so intense she almost lost consciousness, while Serena held and rocked her, smothering her sobs in the soft skin of her shoulder.

Bernie shuddered and, removing her sticky hand, refastened her trousers, embarrassed by her reaction to Serena’s letter. She waited until her breathing had returned to normal, then she jumped up and went to the bathroom and changed her knickers, ready to go back to classes in the afternoon. The rub of the bicycle saddle certainly didn’t help, neither did the excruciatingly boring lecture on Thomas Mann that Bernie had to endure in a packed lecture hall, the rain hissing down outside, her thoughts only of Serena and Serena’s letter. She squirmed in her seat, every movement inflaming her lust, unable to get enough friction from her tight jeans without moving, but equally unable to stop the throb of desire from tormenting her. She saw again the little guest house room, half lit by the early morning sun, chintzy curtains blowing in the breeze, when she woke Serena in a futile attempt to hold back time, to love her once more before they had to leave. She heard Serena’s gasp as Bernie’s fingers entered her, she felt her smooth inner walls contracting, then Serena holding her tightly, whispering “ _Je t’aime_ ,” into her neck.

 “I love you too, so much”, Bernie had whispered back, all restraint now gone, finally allowing herself to say what she had felt for so long.

 When they were showered, dressed and breakfasted, they sat on the bed to wait for Adrienne’s cousin, Julie, to pick them up. She and her husband, François, had only one spare room in their modest apartment, which Serena had had to share with her mother while Bernie slept on the sofa bed in the living room, but on the last evening, the sofa bed was required for a relative passing through from Switzerland who would drive the old 2 CV back to Belfort. Grasping the opportunity, Serena had booked a guest house for herself and Bernie without consulting her mother, but Adrienne had made no comment. Bernie felt her soul being torn apart at the thought of Serena going, and as they sat, she snuggled closer to Serena, drinking in her smell, her shampoo and the light perfume she wore, rubbing her nose against the clean cotton of her shirt.

 “Bernie,” Serena warned, “what are you doing?”

But Bernie couldn’t help herself, dropping her head to Serena’s breast, she took a nipple between her teeth, through the fabric. Serena’s breath hitched and her hand came up instinctively to tangle in Bernie’s hair. At that precise moment there was a click as the outer door opened and footsteps came across the hallway. They had just seconds to spring apart before Julie burst cheerfully into their room without knocking.

 “ _Alors les filles, on y va_?”

 Serena, very red -faced, sprang to her feet and grabbed her overnight bag. “Yes, let’s go”, she said, over -brightly, not making eye contact.

 ***

The following evening, Bernie decided she had to have a go at answering Serena’s letter, to match her eloquence. She sat at her desk lighting one cigarette after another, a bottle of red wine on hand to help lubricate her thoughts. Bernie was good at languages, at explaining and analysing other people’s words. She had a logical mindset that was adapted to problem-solving and made her an excellent writer of academic essays, but when it came to expressing her own ideas she often drew a blank. She tore up at least 4 attempts until, the bottle three quarters gone, she arrived at a version that she felt was less like a textbook and more like a letter to the woman she loved. Before she lost her confidence, she put it into an envelope and sealed it by licking the glued part and sticking down the flap, running her thumb over the seam to ensure it stayed closed. She didn’t have a fancy wax seal, but at least Serena would have a little part of her.

 In the morning, head thumping, she dropped it into the post box on her way to class, resisting the temptation to reread it. Like Serena’s letter, the parts dealing with their relationship were in French. It had not occurred to her before, but there was something liberating in expressing thoughts in a foreign language that she might struggle to say, much less write, in English.

Serena’s letters began to come regularly, but she never went as far as in her first one. As the weeks passed, she grew more concerned about her exams, and also admitted that she had begun to spend more time with people from her faculty. She didn’t say much about Paul, and Bernie hoped the relationship was fizzling out.

Bernie began to settle into Konstanz and was enjoying some of her classes, especially the ones on modern literature. She even made friends with some of her classmates, and went to eat pizza or to the cinema with them. She took up rowing as a hobby to keep fit now that the weather was turning into summer. But in her head the whole time was the promise of the long Ascension weekend she would spend with Serena.

***

 _This is going to take a long time_  
_And I wonder what's mine_  
_Can't take no more_  
_Wonder if you'll understand_  
_It's just the touch of your hand_  
_Behind a closed door_

 _All I needed was the love you gave_  
_All I needed for another day_  
_And all I ever knew_  
_Only you_

Bernie was so anxious to get to Paris at the start of the holiday that she got a lift to Strasbourg with a fellow student after classes on the Thursday, and once there caught a midnight train which got her into Paris’ Gare de l’Est at 3am. Not having a key, she knew she would have to wake Serena up and she hoped she wouldn’t be annoyed. She hadn’t given her an exact arrival time on Friday, so she guessed Serena would be expecting her much later in the day. But what Serena might have thought of being woken up at 3.30 am Bernie didn’t find out because when she pressed the buzzer, a male voice eventually said “ _Oui_ ”. In surprise, Bernie checked the number of Serena’s apartment against the buzzer. Her name, McKinnie, was clearly written there. Bernie pressed again. This time the voice said "Qui est là?"

Bernie had been about to ask for Serena when she had the sudden realisation that it could be Paul, and that she could hardly expect Serena to let her in if he was there.  Something warned her not to speak, and she walked away blindly on a rising tide of disappointment and anxiety.  She walked in a daze for about fifteen minutes before realising that she didn’t know where to go. Serena’s apartment was in the 13tharrondissement, tucked away in a side street near the Place d’Italie. Now, looking around her in the darkness, Bernie could see the entrance to a small garden, so she made her way over there and found a bench which was mostly hidden from view of the gate. She pulled up the hood of her windcheater to conceal her blonde hair, zipped it up tight and lay down on the bench using her rucksack as a pillow to try to get some rest.

 Bernie next approached Serena’s apartment at 9.30 am. She thought she would give her time to get up and for Paul to disappear. She had found a café and spent a couple of hours there sipping coffee and eating croissants, reading a book to pass the time. Finally she made the return trip across the square and into Serena’s street. This time, Serena herself came to the door downstairs, carrying 2 large shopping bags.

 “Bernie!” she said in surprise, kissing her on both cheeks. “How long have you been standing there? “

 “I ..um.. just arrived” she said.

 “Look”, said Serena, indicating the bags, “I have to go to the laundrette, I’ve got so much stuff piled up. Come with me and we can talk.”

The laundrette was mercifully empty at that time of the morning and Serena was able to fill 2 washing machines with her clothes, which Bernie could also see included sheets and towels. She wondered if Serena had rushed to change the bed as soon as Paul had gone. They chatted happily but inconsequentially for the time it took for the wash cycle to conclude. Serena didn’t think to ask Bernie much about her journey, although she commented “You’re a bit early, aren’t you? Did you have to travel all night?”

 “Something like that”, Bernie said.

When the washing machines stopped, Bernie went to help Serena put the clothes in the dryers. Serena tried to tell her there was no need but Bernie had pulled the door open and was gathering armfuls of things. She spotted a tiny pair of jade and white bikini briefs that she recognised and held them up, smiling at Serena, who blushed and busied herself with the sheets and towels. Then, sifting through the clothes, she came across a pair of men’s briefs, a man’s denim shirt and a pair of grey cord jeans that were too long for Serena. She looked over at Serena questioningly as she transferred the items to the dryer.

 “Doing his laundry now?” she asked lightly, though her heart was in her mouth. Serena tried to brush it off.

“He left some clothes at my place when he went off for the long weekend. I know he wouldn’t have time to wash them so I thought I’d throw them in with mine”, she said, not looking at Bernie.

As other people had by now come in to use the laundrette, Bernie continued reading Hermann Hesse’s “ _Narziss und Goldmund_ ” while waiting for the dryer to finish. Serena was sighing over a Biology textbook.

 “Gosh this is tedious”, she pouted. “Are you actually enjoying that?” flipping up Bernie’s paperback.

 “Actually, I really am”, said Bernie truthfully. “I never thought I would get into German literature, but I’m addicted to Hesse.”  More than that, she was grateful to Hesse for distracting her from the pain of knowing that Serena was still sleeping with Paul.

They made their way back to the apartment with the laundry bags, Serena uncharacteristically quiet, though she kept shooting little glances at Bernie, who was trying hard not to show her feelings.

Once inside, Serena dropped the bags and pushed the straps of Bernie’s rucksack off her shoulders. Then she put her arms round Bernie’s neck and pressed herself to her.

 “I missed you so much”, she whispered.

 “Me too”, Bernie whispered back, hugging Serena close to her. Serena rubbed her cheek against Bernie’s then moved to kiss her. Bernie was drawn in, helpless to resist. The kiss deepened, Bernie melting into it, her hands finding their way to squeeze Serena’s bottom, pulling her tight against her body. Serena was whimpering, and when they came up for air, Bernie saw her eyes glistening.

 “What’s that for?” asked Bernie, wiping a tear from the corner of Serena’s eye. Serena buried her face in Bernie’s shoulder.

 “ _Je t’aime”_ , she whispered.

  “I love you too”, Bernie responded. “Can we go to bed?”

 Serena broke away and went immediately to the chest of drawers where she kept the clean linens.

 “Give me a hand”.

They made the bed quickly, Bernie trying not to think of what Serena had been doing on the bed some hours earlier. She thought of all the things she wanted to do to Serena, then of her tired, travel-stained body.

 “I need a shower”, Bernie took  the clean towel Serena had put out for her.

 “I already had one...in case you’re worried about that.” Serena not meeting Bernie's gaze.

Scrubbing herself with lime scented shower gel, Bernie tried to block out images of Serena washing off her last bout of sex. She brushed her teeth, then re-entered the now shaded room with the towel wrapped beneath her armpits. Serena was already in bed clad only in her underwear. Bernie sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to kiss her, while wandering hands began tugging at the towel and pulling Bernie down in the bed. She draped the towel over a chair and stretched herself out next to Serena, nose twitching at her familiar smell, seeking only to drown herself in her.

 “Why the underwear?” she murmured.

“All the better to tease you”, was the response. Bernie brushed her cheek over a breast, feeling the nipple stand to attention. She turned her head and gently caught the nipple between her teeth while her hand claimed the other breast. She heard the hitch in Serena’s breath as she slid her hand under and unhooked the bra, pulling it away from the warm skin she longed to worship. As she did so, an unwelcome thought rose in her mind. She paused.

 “What’s wrong?” 

 “Did you plan for him to be here last night?” she heard herself asking.

Serena rolled over to look at her.  “Please don’t be jealous, _ch_ _érie_. Actually, no I didn’t know he would be here. He just showed up. He was going to his parents’ in Brussels- his dad’s a diplomat- and he wanted to say good bye. His train was at 8 this morning so he just stayed over.”

 Bernie was silent. Serena put her head on Bernie’s shoulder and stroked her arm.

“I’m not going to pretend I don’t enjoy it with him because sometimes I do. But the only way I can come is if I think about you. No one else has this effect on me like you do, Bernie. “

 “Does he know about me?” 

 “Only that you’re my close friend. He wouldn’t understand.”

 “Are you going to..to marry him or something?”

 Serena laughed “Good God, no!  We’re too young. And I’m going home to study Medicine. He can’t speak English, so that’s that, he won’t be following me.”

 “So what about us? Can we go on seeing each other back home?”

 “I hope so, Bernie, I don’t know how I’ll cope otherwise. You’re an addiction”, kissing her tenderly on the lips.

 “I have one more year at Oxford to finish my degree then I could go anywhere. I could follow you, do a Masters or something, get a job. We could live together. “

 Serena rolled into Bernie’s body and held her tightly.

 “Stop talking”, she whispered, “ _et baise-moi_ ”.

 “ _Avec plaisir, Mademoiselle!”_

It occurred to Bernie later that there were little hints and clues she could have picked up during that final weekend that would have prepared her better for what was to come. But the pleasure of being with Serena, of making love with Serena was so overwhelming that it dulled Bernie’s other senses. She thought she caught Brigitte looking at her oddly when they went to dinner with them, Serena sitting far apart from Bernie and flirting outrageously with Sami’s handsome but superficial brother, Djamal. As they moved to the dining table, Serena came behind Bernie and whispered in her ear “Stop looking at me like that”.

Bernie was to some extent saved by the presence of Jean-Michel, the Political Science lecturer, who, remembering their previous sparring on the subject of British politics, was only too happy to take Bernie on again. But all Bernie could see was that Serena was making a very public show of not being with her in anything but a casually friendly way.

 After dinner Bernie helped Brigitte make a start on the washing up while Sami made coffee.

 “Are you two OK?” Bibi suddenly asked.

 “Uh..what? Sorry, what do you mean?” 

 “You and Serena. I always thought you were very close. Maybe even…that close”, Bibi ventured.

 Silence.

 “Look, Bernie, it’s none of my business, but you’re my friend, I can see you’re unhappy. You love her, don’t you?”

 Bernie felt a lump come to her throat. A tear plopped onto the soapy plates.

 Brigitte patted her gently on the arm. “It’s OK, no one’s judging. We understand.”

Bernie still said nothing although the words “Yes, I love her” were straining to get out. All she could think was how angry Serena would be if she divulged their secret.

 “Don’t worry, Bernie, we won’t say anything. You’re both going home soon, so you have a chance to work something out there, right?”

 Bernie nodded tightly.

 When they got back to the flat, Serena asked what she and Bibi had been talking about in the kitchen.

 “You didn’t tell her anything, did you, Bernie?”

 “No”, Bernie replied firmly. “But I didn’t have to. They know”.

 "What? How for God’s sake? Honestly, Bernie, do you have to be so transparent?”

 Bernie was floundering, thinking Serena should know what people were thinking, yet afraid of getting herself into even more trouble.

 She turned to face Serena. “I never said a thing to anyone. And I’ve been away from Paris for 8 weeks now. So it can hardly be my fault.”

 Serena softened. “That’s not what I meant. OK I can deal with Bibi and Sami, but just try to hide your feelings better when we’re in public, OK? No need to advertise it.”

 Bernie felt the rebuke but she couldn’t help herself. She loved Serena so much that it was hard to keep a poker face all the time. Her love and adoration shone out of her.

 “You do realise that if we carry this on back home, you’re going to have a to be a lot more careful, don’t you?”

 ***

It was Monday evening. Bernie’s rucksack was packed and they left the small apartment to go to the train station. As she closed the door, Bernie wondered if she would ever see it again, ever lie again in that bed that held all their secrets.

 “Can I come back before you leave Paris?”  she asked Serena as they took the Métro to the Gare de l’Est.

 “Oh Bernie, I forgot to tell you, my Mum’s coming to help me pack up the apartment, and we’re flying to London. She’ll be staying here.”

 “So I won’t see you?”

 “When are you going home?” Serena asked.

“End of July, I think. I’m planning to work for a month in Germany first”, Bernie said. “So I’ll have to forward my new address when I move. Until then you can write to me in Konstanz.”

 On the platform, Serena clung tightly to Bernie, both finding it difficult to hold back their tears. Finally, Bernie had to pull away to get on the train.

 “Hey, I’ll see you in a couple of months”, Bernie said, “and I’ll write. Good luck with your exams!”

 She stayed at the window as the train pulled out, her last view of Serena her shoulder, as she turned, still crying, towards the exit.

 ***

When her term ended in Konstanz, Bernie got a summer job for a month as a translator in the ZF factory in Friedrichshafen. The Bodensee was beautiful in midsummer and Bernie wished fervently that Serena could have been there with her. She drew the attention of a quietly handsome engineer a few years older than herself. So as not to appear standoffish, Bernie let Gerhard take her to the cinema, and for picnics and swimming at the weekends, but she always stopped him after a kiss, and Gerhard was much too polite to push it any further.

She waited patiently for letters from Serena, but Serena wrote only once before returning to London in mid-June. She did not mention any plans for them to meet up, and Bernie told herself it was because she could not see beyond the immediate future of her exams.

Once Serena had left Paris, there were no more letters. Bernie had booked herself a train ticket back to the UK for the end of July. She was hoping that she could spend a couple of days with Serena in London before going to her parents in Shropshire. She had written to Serena’s London address several times, but had had no reply, and she had no telephone number. Three days before she left Germany, a letter finally came, bearing the familiar wax seal. Inside was a single sheet of Serena’s fancy letter paper.

  _My dearest Bernie,_

_This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write. You’re my closest friend but I know now that I can’t continue to be close friends with you the way we were in France. Our lives will go in separate directions from now on, and that’s how it should be. I know this will hurt you, and I’m so sorry, but I hope and believe you can get over it and move on._

_Thank you for sharing this amazing year with me. You’re brilliant and beautiful and you deserve a wonderful life._

_Serena_

PS  _Please don’t write to me any more, I can’t answer you._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Alors les filles, on y va? = OK girls, shall we go?
> 
> Qui est là? = Who's there?
> 
> Je t’embrasse très fort = hugs and kisses


	11. Holding Back The Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena is more and more attracted to Bernie and finding it hard to hide her feelings. Other staff also begin to notice a bond between them that suggests a past acquaintance. Bernie still shies away from talking about the past to Serena, but at Raf and Essie's wedding reception, Serena accidentally breaks through the barrier. Bernie flees, only to admit later that it is time for The Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from one of the -for me- most evocative songs of the '80s, Simply Red's "Holding Back the Years". Never fails to send a shiver down the spine.

**May, 2016**

Serena’s anxiety is building during the drive to work, a fact not missed by Jason.

 “I don’t know why you look so nervous”, he says, “I know I can do this job perfectly well. You should have more confidence in me”.

Serena swings the car into the Holby City car park, smiling grimly. They head into the hospital and join the queue at Pulses. Bernie arrives a few seconds later, hair damp and tousled, cheeks flushed.

“Hello stranger. Late night was it?”

“What? Oh no, I ran to work this morning and just got out of the shower”. She fumbles in her bag for her glasses, the movement releasing an enticing aroma of coconut-scented shampoo and something light and floral on her body. Jason’s nose twitches.

“You do smell nice, Bernie. I’m always telling Auntie Serena that the perfume she wears is much too strong. It makes me sneeze.”

 Serena groans.

“Ha ha”, honks Bernie, as people turn their heads to see where the noise is coming from.  “Hi Jason, I didn’t see you there for a moment. First day is it?”

“Yes, how do you know?”

“Well, you may recall I did write a reference for you, so I’m assuming you got the porter’s job”.

 “Yes, and I’m really raring to go, but Auntie Serena is all nervous. I can’t think why”.

 Bernie smiles softly at Serena and squeezes her arm.

 “She just wants to see you do well, Jason. I would be the same if it was my son on his first day”.

 Jason looks pleased and Serena mouths “Thank you”.

Serena is finding it harder and harder to be around Bernie. Every day, there she is, breathtaking in those skinny jeans. When she bends over, Serena feels dizzy from lack of oxygen, and those toned muscles on show  when she once changed her shirt in the office…not to mention the firm breasts and irresistible clavicles have Serena in a sticky mess. She is even more gorgeous than the lanky student Serena fell in love with all those miles and years ago, and Serena is seriously conflicted.

 _‘This is my punishment_ ,’ Serena thinks, as her hand slides inevitably downwards as soon as she gets into her large, comfortable but very cold bed. Serena tries to recall the fantasies of Bernie from 30 years ago, the feel of her breasts, the taste of her kisses, but to her frustration, the images are fuzzy, she can’t get a sharp enough recall to satisfy her arousal. To her own shame and embarrassment, she finds herself getting off to fantasies of Bernie Wolfe the clinical psychologist, pinning her down on the consulting couch, or dragging her into the on-call room, or, her personal favourite, fucking her mercilessly on the desk in their shared office.

Serena is astute enough to realise that in these fantasies there is an element of masochism,  but she doesn’t know how to stop. She decides that she needs to find out more about Bernie and her life, to balance out the picture, so one day after work, she invites her to Albie’s for a drink.

Bernie is her usual gracious and friendly self, but Serena can sense apprehension when they sit with their drinks in a quiet corner. They chat about patients and hospital policies for a few minutes then Serena says “I, um, bumped into a friend of yours a few weeks back.”

 “Oh really?”   Bernie is surprised. She can’t think of any friends in Holby.

 “Yes, uh, Alex, was it?”

 Colour floods Bernie’s cheeks and she immediately looks down into her glass. _Aha, got you_ , thinks Serena. But Bernie composes herself, then raises her head to look at Serena.

“Well I’m guessing that if you ran into her here, she would have been upset. She came to say goodbye to me, she was going back to her unit. She’s the one who pulled me out of the vehicle when the IED hit, so I owe her my life. We also had an affair, but that’s been over for a while”.

“Is that why you got divorced?” she asks.

“No, or at least, I didn’t ask Marcus for a divorce in order to be with Alex. Alex just made me realise that I had been kidding myself in thinking I needed a man in my life when in fact I’ve probably always - no, I have always- been gay.”

 She looks Serena in the eye steadily, and it is Serena who breaks eye contact first.

“That’s a brave decision” she says.  “How did your kids take it?”

A look of acute discomfort appears on Bernie’s face.

 “Well there’s the rub. My son, Cameron, is fine, but my daughter won’t speak to me because I cheated on her father and lied- by omission, but that amounts to the same thing in her book. Of course, Marcus made sure he came out of that particular narrative smelling of roses. Charlotte was always a Daddy’s girl.”

She pauses, and Serena, feeling her anguish, reaches out and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

 “I would never have won any Mum Of The Year awards, but it still hurts”. She swallows a sob and Serena squeezes her hand again.

"Hey, don’t punish yourself. You’ve done the right thing now by coming out to them. She’ll get over it. I know what young girls are like- I have one of my own, and what a little madam she is, but they blow hot and cold at that age, it’s not forever.”

“Thank you”, Bernie says, smiling through unshed tears.

Serena feels a wave of emotion as she connects with that beautiful gaze. Pulse racing, she withdraws her hand and says “Shall we have another?,  getting up to go to the bar.

Two glasses later, Bernie says  “Don’t you have to get home to make Jason’s dinner?”

“No, he’s having a sleepover with his former carer. So I’m footloose and fancy-free. As it were”. Looking down into her glass.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to have to eat soon. Drinking on an empty stomach was never my thing”.

Out of nowhere, the question “ _So what **is** your thing?” _comes to the tip of Serena’s tongue, but she is still sober enough to quash it.

“Right. Well, could we … I mean would you like to have a bite somewhere?”

 “Sure”, putting her glass down and reaching for her jacket.

 “Maybe leave the cars here?” suggests Serena.

 “Good idea, I can run in tomorrow.”

 The thought of Bernie in lycra has to be stopped in its tracks.

 “Ok, so where to?”

 It turns out that there is a perfectly decent pizzeria just one block away from Albie’s, so they head there.

 “Are you a pineapple lover by any chance?” Bernie asks with a twinkle in her eye. “No, don’t answer that, I can see the horror on your face already”.

 Serena laughs, and they agree to go half and half- Bernie’s half a Hawaiian, Serena’s a _Prosciutto e Funghi,_ plus an _Insalata Caprese_ to share, and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest Shiraz.

As the alcohol takes effect, the conversation gets more intimate, with Serena sharing the pain and despair of her marriage to Edward.

“And since Edward?” asks Bernie. “Has there been anyone serious?”

Serena confesses to a string of meaningless affairs with unsatisfactory men, of which Robbie is the latest.

“And what about you?” asks Serena, holding her breath. “No beautiful ladies on the horizon?”

 “Actually,” she says, shyly, between bites of pizza, “this is the first time I’ve told anyone I’m gay. Apart from Alex, I’ve not really explored that landscape yet.”

 Serena puts down her fork and takes a sip of wine, her eyes never leaving Bernie’s.

 “Not exactly true”, she says quietly.  “It was pretty full on in Paris”.

 “Oh”, says Bernie, peering at Serena from under her fringe. “Are we going to go there?”

She seems deflated, beaten down, her eyes have lost their sparkle.

 Serena looks at her steadily for a few minutes, then she says.

 “Perhaps this is not the right moment. I can see how this is upsetting you”.

 Bernie hesitates, playing with the stem of her wine glass.

 “I’m sorry, Serena, while I do think this is a conversation we need to have, I don’t think I’m quite ready for it. Another time, yes?”

 Serena agrees and calls for the bill, the intimate mood broken.

 ***

They avoid any talk about the past until one day Ric pokes his head round the office door and asks if Serena could help him with a lady who only speaks French. The woman seems to be the ex-wife of a local politician and is extremely good looking, which Serena privately thinks is why Ric jumped to take the case, but she is being less than candid about her problem. Ric shows Serena her blood test results which indicate an infection somewhere, but the symptoms she is claiming, pain in the thorax, don’t give them any clues. Something isn’t right, so Serena sends Ric away and determines to get to the bottom of it, woman to woman. When the patient actively resists a CT scan, Serena decides on a Psych consult. She asks Fletch to fetch Bernie. Bernie jumps right into the conversation in French and the two of them try to find out what the woman is concealing. Fletch stands by with his mouth open as the Consultant Psychologist and the Consultant Vascular Surgeon carry on a conversation with each other and the patient as if they were all in France. They seem to be able to second guess each other, and Fletch notices with considerable astonishment that they also appear totally unaware that they are using a foreign language.  They retreat to their office, continuing to speak in French to each other. Fletch catches Raf’s eye and moves closer.

 “See what I mean? I wasn’t wrong about them getting on well.”

 “Oh I think it’s more than that, don’t you? They obviously knew each other in the past.”

 “Really? Wow, now that’s a whole new angle! To be continued”, and Fletch winks at Raf as he moves to the nurse’s station.

 “ _Tu te rends compte_ …” Serena pauses, closing the office door.  “Sorry, I mean, you do realise this woman has had some sort of cosmetic surgery- you saw that abdominal scar-and that’s what she doesn’t want us to look at too carefully?”

“Did we just conduct that entire conversation in French?” Bernie looks astounded.

Serena starts to giggle. “We did, and in front of everyone as well. Oh now the jungle drums will start beating! You can bet someone is already thinking we have a previous connection.”

Bernie looks so crestfallen that Serena feels the need to comfort her.

“Absolutely no need to enlighten them. Just let them speculate if they really have nothing better to do.”

“That’s bad enough- with those two out there laying bets on anything and everything”, she says unhappily.

“Don’t forget, Raf and Essie are getting married tomorrow so I’m sure they have their minds on other things”.

 “You have a point”, Bernie seems relieved.

 The following day both Bernie and Serena get an invitation to Raf and Essie’s reception at Albie’s after work. Serena is detained in theatre until 7pm, and is surprised to find Bernie still in their office when she returns.

 “What, not already there hitting the champagne?” she says.

 “I’m not much of a party animal”, says Bernie. “Thought I’d wait for you”.

 Serena dons her jacket and holds out her arm.

 “Come on, then, chop chop, before they run out of Shiraz.”

The party is clearly in full swing when they arrive. Tables and chairs have been moved to the edge of the room to make space for dancing and the atmosphere is joyful and lively. Serena reaches the bar first.

 “A bottle of Shiraz please”, half turning to ask Bernie “is that OK with you?”

 “Sure, I’m not fussy”, Bernie replies.

She finds a table tucked away a little, congratulating the happy couple on the way. The music is at a volume which discourages serious attempts at conversation, so Serena is happy just to sit and look at Bernie, noting the fine rose tinge to her cheeks as the wine makes its mark, and the slightly sad, haunted look in her brown puppy dog eyes as she shakes her unruly fringe out of her eyes.

 A hand on her shoulder shakes her out of her reverie.

 “Can I have this dance?” Ric is asking. Serena smiles apologetically at Bernie, who waves her on, and lets Ric guide her to the dancefloor. Ric is a flamboyant dancer, twirling Serena round and round to Fairground Attraction’s “Perfect”, and Serena, a couple of glasses down, is in her element, all the moreso since Raf and Essie have chosen an 80’s theme for the music. When the song finishes, Dom and Morven join them on the dancefloor for “Come on Eileen”. Serena sees that Bernie is talking to Fletch and shaking her head, what’s that about? But she’s having so much fun watching Henrik Hanssen awkwardly flinging his arms and legs about, and everyone singing “You in that dress”, pointing at Essie in her wedding finery, that she forgets about it. Then the music abruptly changes tempo, Lionel Ritchie now crooning “Is it me you’re looking for?” Serena is grabbed by Raf and they smooch, giggling, bumping into Fletch, who has managed to prise Bernie from her corner. Serena winks at Bernie, obviously forcing a smile as Fletch holds her rather too closely. Serena can see the smug, self-congratulatory look on Fletch’s face, but when Lionel Ritchie fades and the opening bars of the next song startle Serena into awareness, she pulls away from Raf and taps Bernie on the shoulder.

“Mine, I think”, she says, her gaze burning with intensity. Bernie looks squarely back at her, a hint of panic in her eyes, but she steps willingly enough into Serena’s body space. Serena puts her arms round Bernie’s neck and Bernie holds her loosely round the waist. Serena snuggles into her.

  _Holding back the years_  
_Thinking of the fear I've had so long_  
 _When somebody hears_  
 _Listen to the fear that's gone_

There’s hardly a whisper of breath between them. Serena feels hands tightening on her hips, soft breasts against her own. It’s such a relief, this softness, this feeling of care, it’s been so long. Serena brushes her cheek against Bernie’s, feeling Bernie’s intake of breath. Her smell -fresh, light, floral is at once familiar and yet alien. Serena has only been with men in the last 30 years, any temptation she may have had to take her flirting with women to the next stage has been suppressed, her inner voice telling her sternly to avoid that path. Now she understands why, and it’s like coming home. She plants a soft kiss on Bernie’s cheek in the darkness as other couples float past, wrapped up in each other, floating on a tide of alcohol-induced pleasure. Serena wants the song to go on forever.

  _Holding back the tears_  
_Chance for me to escape from all I know_  
 _Holding back the tears_  
 _'Cause nothing here has grown_  
 _I've wasted all my tears_  
 _Wasted all those years_  
 _Nothing had the chance to be good_  
 _Nothing ever could, yeah_

_I'll keep holding on…_

At some point, Serena becomes aware of the gentle vibration of Bernie’s body; she cranes her neck to look at her, finding Bernie buried in her shoulder, wetness  seeping into Serena’s shirt. Serena manoeuvres them to the edge of the dance floor, intending to sit down, but Bernie suddenly lets go of Serena, her eyes red, and with an expression of such pain that Serena involuntarily steps back.

Mustering her last shred of dignity, Bernie says  “I can’t do this, Serena, I’m sorry”, and before Serena can react, Bernie has snatched her jacket and handbag and fled.

“Bugger”, mutters Serena, sitting down heavily and pouring herself another glass. “Bugger, bugger, bugger, you really fucked that up, Campbell!”

 ***

Bernie doesn’t know how she gets home, tears blocking her vision for much of the route. She thanks her lucky stars that traffic is light and that she hasn’t had much to drink. When she pulls up the handbrake on her Mazda and switches off the ignition, she breathes a sigh of relief. But what now?

 Her flat is empty, devoid of pictures, cushions or anything warm and soft. The only comforting thing Bernie can find is the duvet scrunched up on the bed, so she takes that, and a fresh bottle of whisky and a glass, and curls up on the sofa, shedding her jacket, blouse and shoes.

She wakes to a thumping head and churning gut at 7am and just makes it to the bathroom before evacuating her stomach’s meagre contents.  Emerging from the bathroom, she puts on the kettle, makes a cup of herbal tea, swallows a couple of paracetamol and takes the tea, the duvet and her phone back to the bedroom. The phone was still on silent from when she set it the previous day for a meeting, and she sees 6 missed calls from Serena.  Text messages reveal more of the same:

  _I’m so, so sorry I upset you, Bernie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please call me. Let’s talk._

 Bernie is tempted to say nothing, but can imagine the deluge of calls and texts this will result in, so she texts back.

  _It’s OK. We’ll talk on Monday._

 For the rest of the day, Bernie sleeps, then showers, dresses in old sweats and occupies herself with minor chores such as the laundry, a supermarket run, a bit of vacuuming. By the evening she is feeling almost human so she calls her son, Cameron, needing to touch base with someone who cares about her.  By pure chance, Cameron is free and immediately offers to come over, overriding her protests that she is fine.

When he arrives carrying a large plastic bag, Bernie is beginning to get hungry. She had thought they might order pizza, but her stomach rebels at the thought of fat and dough. Cameron has second guessed her. As he begins pulling containers out of the bag and popping the tops on the various tubs inside, the most delicious smell fills the kitchen.

 “What is that?” Bernie asks, sniffing.

 “Beef fur”, she thinks he says.

 “Fur?”

“No, P-H-O, it’s a Vietnamese noodle soup. One of the guys who works in the shelter is Vietnamese and his parents have this noodle shop. It’s awesome, you’re going to love it.”

 He finds two large soup bowls and puts broad, flat white rice noodles into each bowl followed by  some slices of very thinly cut beef, still pink. Then he takes a container of broth and puts it in the microwave for two minutes.

 “The beef has to cook in the broth”, he says, “so it must be hot”.

 Finally he pours the boiling broth into each bowl and adds a handful of green herbs, a handful of bean sprouts, a tiny bottle of fish sauce and a squeeze of fresh lime juice to each one. He gives her a spoon and a pair of chopsticks, indicating extra soy sauce, chilli flakes and lime if she needs. Bernie takes a cautious sip, hoping her stomach won’t let her down. To her surprise, the beef broth, flavoured with what she can detect as cinnamon, star anise and black pepper, among other things, is both deep and rounded in flavour without being too spicy, but also light and wholesome. She devours the bowl.

“See. Told you”, Cameron is smug as he pops one of the cans of beer he has brought, and which Bernie declines.

“You sounded a bit washed out on the phone, and you look even worse than you sounded. Do you want to talk about it?”

They move to the sofa, and Bernie sits with her arms on her knees, her head hanging down.

She is not used to this, but since leaving Marcus, her relationship with Cameron has become more one of friends than mother and son, and she feels she can trust him.

 “I’m just a bit down.”

 “Because?”

 “Oh, just an old face from the past popping up.”

 “Unwelcome, you mean?”

 “Not exactly. Just not what I expected”.

 Cameron knows how hard it is for Bernie to talk so he waits.

“Remember I told you that I had a fling with a woman before I met your Dad? Well, this is hard to believe but… that woman is now my colleague at Holby City hospital.”

 “Wow! That must be what, thirty years or more ago? So why would that be a problem now?”

She raises her head. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you,” she says, quietly.  “The relationship I had with her when we were students in France was much more important than I let you think.”

She opens up and tells Cameron some of the backstory- the way Serena dropped her, her identity crisis back in England, her struggle with free-floating anxiety, depression and agoraphobia. The way the Army got her back on her feet and immersed her in a rule-bound environment where it was easier not to think too much, to try to be “normal”.

 “But what’s the deal with her now? Surely you processed all that out of your system a long time ago?”

 “I thought I had”, she admits, “but things keep coming back to me.”

 “Wait a minute…..you mean you’re attracted to her again?”

 Bernie blushes. “So it would seem”.

 “And what about her? Do you get that vibe from her?”

 She nods.

 “So what’s stopping you?”

 “She hurt me, Cam, she really hurt me. I don’t know if I can go back there …I just feel afraid .”

 “Mum, you’re a shrink, surely you deal with this stuff every day?”

“You would think”.

 Cameron put his arm round her shoulders.

 “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Talk to her. Find out why she dumped you. It can’t be the same situation now, you were both young.”

 Bernie nods again as he gives her shoulders another squeeze.

 “Oh, and there was something I wanted to tell you, Madre. My F1 rotation starts next week- and they’ve placed me at Holby City. So if this woman gives you any aggro, I’ll be there to beat her up for you”.

 ***

On Monday Bernie avoids Pulses and goes straight to the office. Serena has pre-empted her, on the desk is her usual latte and a plain croissant. Bernie takes off her jacket and sits at her desk. She sighs but before she can speak, Serena jumps in.

 “Don’t say anything, Major. That’s a peace offering. I’m sorry beyond words for what happened on Friday. I never thought this would be so ..so obviously painful for you.”

 “It surprised me, too. But I think it’s time we had That Talk, don’t you? The only way we can deal with this is to confront the past.”

“It’s well overdue,” admits Serena, looking a little sheepish. “And I owe you a 30 year old explanation”.

 “You do. Just not in a bar or with alcohol involved, OK?  Do you have a free hour or so you could block today?”

 “I have no surgeries booked between one and three pm, so unless the red phone rings I could make myself unavailable.”

 “In that case”, says Bernie, writing something on her schedule, “you have a date with my couch!”


	12. The Reckoning: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena sits on Bernie's couch and recounts the events of June and July 1986 that resulted in her final letter to Bernie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap in posting, now back on track. I had intended this to be just one chapter, where both tell their stories, but it was stretching over 4,000 words so I decided to split them. Sorry, no action here, just a rewind to 1986 following Bernie and Serena's last meeting.

**Paris, June 1986**

  _Serena tried to finish all her errands in order not to leave her mother too long alone in her apartment. Not that she needed to entertain her, but the idea of her going through her things while helping her to pack made her uncomfortable. She had bought a few very short skirts and some extremely non-Marks and Spencer lingerie in Paris, and she could imagine what her mother would say about that!_

_As she unlocked the door, there was a good smell of home- made soup from the kitchenette and Serena realised she was hungry. They were leaving for London the following day, which meant she only had to get through this lunch and dinner tonight alone with Adrienne before she would be back with her father._

_“Serena! Lunch is ready,” her mother called as Serena came in and put her bag down on the bed, moving to the small table where her mother had laid out soup bowls and bread. Adrienne’s mouth was set in a line Serena recognised only too well, but over lunch she refrained from criticising Serena, and asked only perfunctory questions about where she had been and what she had been doing. When Serena had washed up the soup bowls and turned back into the room, her mother was standing in the middle of the small apartment with a wad of paper in her hand. With a sinking heart, Serena recognised it as Bernie’s first letter to her._

_“Would you care to explain this?” Adrienne asked coldly._

_"Mum, that’s private correspondence”, Serena said._

_“Not when it’s addressed to my daughter, whose father and I are paying to put her through expensive higher education and who is risking her future with totally inappropriate sexual experiments.”_

_“Would you prefer it if I were doing drugs, then?” asked Serena sarcastically._

_“Don’t answer me back, young lady, or you’ll find yourself stacking the shelves at Waitrose”, Adrienne snapped._

_The absurd thought came to Serena that while Tesco or Asda was more likely, her mother’s imagination couldn’t stretch beyond her own snobbery._

_Serena sighed._

_"Look Mum, I can explain. Can we just sit down?”_

 Serena pauses in her narrative, Bernie remaining silent, sitting out of her line of vision. Serena sighs and takes up the thread once more, her reluctance palpable.

_"You remember Bernie, my English friend, who came with us on holiday to Germany at Easter?”_

_"Of course,” Adrienne replied._

_“Well, the last night we were there, when we went to the guest house, she made a pass at me, said that she was in love with me etc. etc. You know I’m really not interested in that kind of thing- I had a boyfriend, for goodness’ sake – but, well, she was persistent, and I like her, I didn’t want to upset her so well, a few things happened.”_

_“More than a few, judging by the contents of this letter. And her French is excellent, by the way, it leaves nothing to the imagination. In fact, it’s disgusting. I should have seen this coming- I had a feeling about that girl when I saw how close you two were.”_

_Serena wondered if her mother had had the same ‘feeling’ about her, but dared not ask._

_“Mum, look, it’s really exaggerated. It wasn’t like that, only mostly in her imagination.”_

_Serena knew the contents of the letter by heart, and she tried to work out how much her mother could read into it._

_“It never happened again, I told her I wasn’t into that.”_

_“She says you wrote her a letter first- I hope it wasn’t like this! This is…...it’s like something from a porn film, Emmanuelle, something like that”._

_Serena sniggered to herself. ‘Emmanuelle’ was a soft porn -by the standards of the day- flick from the Seventies that her parents had apparently been tricked into going to see by a friend who liked French movies. Her mother had never recovered. Serena suspected her father had secretly enjoyed it._

_“She’s just trying out her French- been reading too much Colette, I expect! Mum, there’s nothing there, I promise. I felt sorry for her, she’s very lonely, I think this is just a phase. Besides, I haven’t seen her since that holiday, she’s still in Germany, so that was a long time ago.”_

_Serena was trying to accumulate reasons why the letter was less significant than it appeared, but Adrienne was still suspicious. She pursed her lips.  Then, to Serena’s horror, she tore the letter into quarters and dropped it in the waste paper basket._

_“That’s enough of that, madam. I don’t want you to see that girl ever again. You need to focus on your studies.”_

_She then delivered a long rant about Serena’s coming exams and how Serena continually disappointed them with her frivolous behaviour. Serena noted that Adrienne always used ‘we’ to include Serena’s father, though Serena was sure he didn’t share in that disappointment to quite the same extent as her mother._

Serena falls silent again, exhausted by the intensity of the recollection. Bernie shifts a little in her seat. She doesn’t interrupt, but it seems Serena might need some redirection. 

“So did that subject- the subject of Bernie- come up again?” she asks in a neutral tone of voice. 

“Oh that was just the start!” 

_Serena’s mother ranted and raved all the way back to England and on arrival, she immediately informed Serena’s father of what had happened, and reiterated that Serena wasn’t to see Bernie ever again, that she was clearly a “bad influence”. Serena’s father was more sympathetic- she could win him over a lot more easily._ _He said he could understand sexual curiosity, he was a doctor, after all, and he just warned her not to get involved. Serena could see that her mother was still suspicious, even though on the surface she seemed to accept Serena’s explanation._

_To make matters worse, Adrienne believed that Paul was Serena’s serious boyfriend-she’d met him on a previous visit, impressed by the fact that his father was an Army General turned diplomat, of course, so she assumed that Serena had cheated on him for fun. With a girl!_

 “And what about Paul? Did you continue to see him?” Bernie asks. 

“No, I dumped him before the exams. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t pleasant, but in the end he accepted it. I had sleepless nights because of him -coming to my place, and crying and just making it so hard, until finally I told him I wouldn’t open the door any more because I had to study for my exams. I didn’t tell my mother I had split with him until later.”

“OK, so what happened next?”

_For a while, things were quiet. Serena stayed in to prepare for her exams and her parents had nothing to complain about._ _Serena knew Bernie was still in Germany, and that she would write to her, so she kept trying to intercept the postman. She managed twice to get Bernie’s letter and hide it from Adrienne. But she didn’t answer the letters. She didn’t want to tell Bernie that her mother had found out. She wanted to get those exams out of the way and then decide what to do next. She finished all the exams in the first week of July, and then her parents forced her to go on an extended break with them to Stockholm while her father attended a conference.  It was excruciating, every day planned out, cultural visits, meeting up with her father’s medical colleague, boring dinners. All Serena could think about was Bernie, how she missed her and how much she wanted to see her again. But she was afraid of her mother, who was watching her like a hawk, so she didn’t even send Bernie a postcard._

_Then one day Adrienne came back to the hotel all smiles. She had called her sister in France to chat, and her sister had just had a visit from Julie and François, from Friedrichshafen. Julie said they had seen Bernie a couple of times – “that nice young English girl, Serena’s friend”- with a German guy who was obviously her boyfriend. Serena’s mother was relieved, she thought it meant Bernie wasn’t interested in Serena after all._

 “How did you feel about that?” Bernie asks.

“I have to admit I was a bit jealous, although I knew that Bernie was probably only going out with him for appearance’s sake, but my mother was nicer to me after that. Or, well, she was until we went back to London”.

  _When the family arrived home, Adrienne unlocked the house and before Serena could get there, she had picked up another letter from Bernie that was waiting there.  This time she opened it and read it first and Serena had to stand there not having any idea what it said. When she put it down she was very cold.  She said it was clear that Serena had lied to her, and that Bernie seemed to be expecting to come here to visit her. She told Serena to write and break off the friendship, and that Bernie would never be welcome in their house. Crucially, she added that if Serena didn’t do what she asked, her parents would not fund her medical studies, and she would have to leave home and get a job._

“And how did you react to this?”

“Oh, I cried all night. This was my own stupid fault. I should have told Bernie not to write to me in London after my Mum found the first letter. Or I should have got another address, like a PO Box for her to write to. But at the end of the day, I was a student, I had no money of my own and I wanted to study Medicine. I imagined that once I got away from London, I would have more freedom.”

 “And did you?”

 Serena is silent. Bernie waits.

 “I’m not sure. Because, right after that, something else happened that made my decision for me.”

 Bernie waits again, sensing that Serena is reaching the most painful part of her narrative.

  _Serena had been expecting to get her period about the time her mother had arrived in Paris, but didn’t worry too much when it didn’t come, thinking the stress of her exams, breaking up with Paul and leaving Paris had affected her. However, when she missed the second month, shortly after arriving back from Stockholm,  it suddenly dawned on Serena that she might have a much bigger problem than discovery of her secret lesbian love affair. She bought a pregnancy testing kit and locked herself in the bathroom when her mother had gone to the hairdresser’s. She tried frantically to remember when it could have happened, and finally pinned it down to her last sexual encounter with Paul, when she had been trying to break off the relationship, and he had been so distraught. He had arrived at her apartment at 11pm, just two days before her final exams in early June, as she was going to bed. Serena was so tired and low that day that she couldn’t fight with him, so she let him in, warning him that this was the last time, and after that, she couldn’t see him any more. She couldn’t remember much about the sex because, for once, she couldn’t enjoy it. She felt trapped, both physically and emotionally, and found herself thinking about Bernie even more than usual. When Paul rolled off her, she went to the bathroom and took a long shower, bringing herself off imagining Bernie touching her, trying to erase the memory of Paul. Like most girls in those pre-AIDS days, Serena was on the pill, but she also insisted on boyfriends using condoms because she was aware of other sexually transmitted diseases which were rife among students. On this occasion, she remembered, Paul had not brought condoms, thinking she had some left, but she hadn’t so the sex had been without.  She also remembered that, possibly as a result of the stress she was under at that time, she had had an upset stomach for several days that week, which may be why the pill had not done its job. Once again, her carelessness had cost her._

Bernie is trying hard to keep her voice neutral.

 “So how did you deal with that?” she asks.

 Serena sighs. “I’m not proud of this, but when I realised that my options were few and far between, I went to see my father in his consulting room, and I grovelled. I begged him to arrange an abortion for me and not to tell my mother. I told him that this was an accident, that I didn’t want to marry Paul, that I was too young and I wanted to complete my studies. I promised him that if he did this one thing for me that I would become the best doctor I could be, I would make him proud, and that I would never compromise my future again. It was a promise I had to keep.”

  _Douglas McKinnie was as good as his word. After a long and tearful conversation with his wayward daughter, he quietly arranged for her to have a D & C in the gynaecological clinic at his hospital and then he put her in a private room overnight, telling his wife that Serena had come down with a nasty 24 hour virus, and that he would monitor her personally, advising Adrienne to stay away until the infectious phase was over._

“What was the relationship like with your father after that?” asks Bernie, trying to control the emotion in her voice.

 “Well, I had entered into a pact with him. I loved and respected my father, and I knew that this pregnancy, at such a vital juncture, would be the last  straw if I didn’t turn myself around. So I wrote that final letter to you on the day I got back from the hospital. I knew that from then on, I had to keep on the straight and narrow if I wanted to become a doctor”.

 “And did you?”

 “I did. I got to my Dad’s old medical school, Edinburgh. I passed all my exams. I became a doctor. When I was accepted at Harvard for the MBA, my father was so proud. By then I had married Edward, it was before we had Elinor. But my Dad died before Elinor was born, so he never got to know either of his grand -children.”

Bernie is silent, absorbing the impact of “either”. Serena adds

“I didn’t want a baby, I certainly didn’t want one with Paul, but you can’t help wondering what that child would have been like. I hated myself for a very long time, I blamed myself for being stupid and frivolous and careless, to the extent of sacrificing a child’s life…” she breaks off, her voice wavering.

 “And what about now? “

 “I’ve turned into my mother,” she says dully. “I bully the F1s, I’m hard on Elinor, I don’t tolerate carelessness or recklessness. There’s no room in my world any more for the kind of mistakes I made in the past. I know this, I don’t like it, but it’s the result of trying so hard for so many years to overcome what I saw as character flaws in my young self”.

 “And what has it cost you?”

 There is a pause, then Serena bursts into tears and Bernie the clinical psychologist passes her the box of tissues, waiting as she sobs, until she blows her nose and wipes her eyes.

“All these years I’ve been carrying so much guilt- about what I did to Bernie, losing the baby, and I’ve tried so hard to be someone that maybe I’m not. I should have dumped Edward long before I did. But I had a small child and I kept on trying to make it all work until I began to lose my self-respect. It’s taken me these last sixteen years to rebuild my life.”

 Serena appears to have come to the end of her narrative, so Bernie moves back into view and changes her tone to a gentle, more personal one. She takes Serena’s hand.

 “I’m so sorry, Serena, that you had to go through all that. I..I had a miscarriage once, so I know what that feels like.”

 “At least yours was not of your making”, Serena says bitterly.

“I was on active duty,” Bernie says sadly. “It was after Charlotte. I didn’t want more children but I wouldn’t have had an abortion. I just didn’t know I was pregnant. Of course, Marcus blamed me for being reckless. He blamed the Army for everything wrong in our lives.”

 Serena passes the box of tissues back to Bernie and looks at her.

 “So, that’s the story, Major. Now you know. I was a coward, a liar and irresponsible. I broke Paul’s heart and I broke yours and I lost a child. When Edward was out getting drunk and shagging everything female that passed by, I told myself it was partly my fault, karma, I suppose, punishment for my own behaviour”.

 Bernie smiles sadly.

 “I can see why you’d think that, but it needs untangling, it’s complicated. Maybe you should get some therapy.”

 “Isn’t that what I’m doing?” asks Serena, sitting up on the couch.

 “Not really. I’m not the person who can help you heal because I’m directly involved. But what say we go outside for a breath of air? I don’t think I can sit on my own couch.”

 They walk into the Peace Garden and Serena puts her hand on Bernie’s arm.

 “I’ve told you my story, but what about you? Do you want to tell me what happened after Germany?”

 Bernie looks tongue tied for a minute so Serena starts with a question, one dear to her heart.

 “Tell me about the boyfriend”.

 “Were you really jealous?”

 “Yes, yes, I was. I had no reason to be and after all, I had a boyfriend too, but it bothered me.”

 “It was, as you correctly deduced, for show. And for company. Gerhard was a perfectly nice guy but apart from enjoying each other’s company, there was nothing else going on. Certainly no sex.”

 "Ah well that’s OK then,” smirks Serena. “Oh, did I really say that?” covering her mouth with her hand.

 Bernie relaxes a little and gives a half smile.

 “You were my world, Serena. At first I thought it was just you, that I wasn’t attracted to women _per se_ , just to Serena, but later I realised I’m actually gay. I had to get through a marriage and two kids before that became apparent, however.”

 Serena smiles sympathetically and squeezes her hand.

 “I think it’s time to tell me what you’ve been holding back, don’t you? “

 A buzzing noise tells Serena that her  pager is going off off and she pulls it out with a gesture of impatience.

 “Oh..it seems I’m needed urgently. We’ll have to continue this at another time. Look, Bernie, why don’t you come to my house for dinner tonight? I should be back by seven.”

 “What about Jason? “

 “He knows I’ll be too late for him so he’s arranged to go to Alan’s for dinner”.

 She starts moving back towards the hospital.

 “See you later”, she calls.


	13. The Reckoning Part Two: Hiding My Heart Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie goes to dinner at Serena's home and tells her part of the story. The Reckoning gets closer. 
> 
> Song for the chapter is "Hiding My Heart Away" by Brandi Carlile. Not an '80s song, but very relevant and contemporary.

Bernie sits alone in the Peace Garden, elbows on her knees, wishing she still smoked. While Serena was telling her story, Bernie had been in her professional role, showing no emotion, and sitting back, asking Serena to talk about her in the third person, as if she were not there herself.  Now she has the space and privacy to react to what she heard and to fill the gaps in the events in her memory.

**_Konstanz and London, July/August 1986_ **

_After receiving Serena’s final letter, Bernie spent her last few days in Germany in a state of complete numbness.  Nothing made sense, she felt she had to get some kind of explanation. She travelled back by train in a daze, arriving exhausted and disoriented at Charing Cross Station at noon. She deposited her luggage and ensconced herself in a telephone box. Digging out coins, she called Directory enquiries to get Serena’s number, but it turned out to be ex-directory, which is what she had suspected, Serena’s father being a professional who probably didn’t want to advertise his address. Bernie decided she had to go to the house. With any luck, Mrs McKinnie would recognise her and tell her how to find Serena if she wasn’t there._

_The McKinnies lived in Hampstead, so Bernie had to cross London by tube to get there, and walk the last couple of hundred yards. She was exhausted from the overnight train journey and early morning, very choppy, ferry crossing, and kept moving in a kind of delirium. But she had to do this, she couldn’t leave London and not find out what had changed Serena’s mind._

_There was a long wait before the door was answered. Bernie tried to smooth her hair and arrange her crumpled clothing to look respectable, but she was only too aware of her travel stained and dishevelled appearance. The door swung open to reveal Adrienne, eyebrows raised._

_“Good afternoon, Mrs McKinnie”, Bernie began, not exactly encouraged by the look on the other woman’s face. “Um, is Serena home?”_

  _Adrienne had her arms folded across her chest._

_“And what do you want with my daughter?” she asked archly._

_If Bernie had been more focused she would have picked up a hint of what was coming in Adrienne’s choice of words, but she bumbled on:_

_“I..er.. I just arrived from Germany and I was passing through- I wanted to see Serena before I head for my parents’ home”._

_Adrienne stepped outside and pulled the door to behind her. She spoke in a low voice, in French, as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear her._

_“Je sais que vous m’entendez parfaitement. I know you can understand me perfectly.  I think that you should just go straight back to your parents and forget about Serena.”_

_Bernie was speechless, her brain unable to take in what she was hearing. Then a quirk in Adrienne’s expression, her use of the “vous” form, when previously she had addressed her as “tu”, and her attempt to keep the conversation discreet alerted her. Serena must have told her something. Bernie coloured sharply._

_“Voilà, ça y est, vous avez bien compris ! There you are, you know what I’m talking about.”_

_Bernie stepped back instinctively, scrabbling for a defence, for some words that would negate the impression Adrienne had formed of her, but all she managed was “We’re just friends..I wanted to say goodbye..”_

_“You are not the kind of friend my daughter either wants or needs. She is going to medical school and neither you nor anyone else is going to distract her with your perverse ideas.”_

_Bernie’s blush deepens. Of course, she knows what Adrienne is referring to, and she can hardly deny it if Serena’s mother already knows, but ‘perverse’ is not a word she would apply to their relationship.”_

_Trying to muster some dignity, Bernie said “Well, please, at least tell Serena I passed by and said hello”, and she prepared to leave._

  _Goodbye Ms Wolfe”, said Adrienne. “Please don’t come here or attempt to contact my daughter again”._

_Stunned, crushed and with Adrienne McKinnie’s “you know what I’m talking about” still echoing in her ears, Bernie retreated and walked blindly back in the direction of the tube station, her heart finally breaking at the realisation that it was over. She sobbed all the way back to Charing Cross, causing fellow passengers to sit as far away from her as possible; once there, she picked up her luggage and counted her money. She simply couldn’t face going home, so she walked down the road to where there were a number of cheap hotels and took a room for the night._

 *

Bernie arrives at Serena’s house at a quarter past seven, having texted her not to cook, and then having picked up lasagne, garlic bread and salad at her favourite Italian restaurant, together with a bottle of sinfully expensive Australian Shiraz from the wine shop next door.

 Serena is overwhelmed.  “Oh, Bernie, you shouldn’t have!” she exclaims.

 “Do you want me to take it back?” asks Bernie, holding the bottle aloft.

 “No, no of course not, I..I just…”

 “I did it”, Bernie says, closing the door behind her as she gets inside,” because I didn’t want you distracted by domestic chores when we need to finish this conversation”.

Serena immediately lays the table and unwraps the lasagne that she sniffs, and grates more parmesan cheese over before popping it into the oven to warm. Bernie smiles at this. Of course, Serena would be a parmesan perfectionist!

The salad is fresh, crisp and comes with a delicious balsamic dressing. Serena puts the garlic bread in the oven to warm with the lasagne and pours them each a glass of wine.

 Serena holds her glass up for a toast.

 “To a lasting friendship”, she says. Bernie smiles and clinks their glasses together.

 “It’s a tradition in Italy”, says Serena, “that upsetting, distressing topics or matters of life and death should not interrupt a good meal, so let’s just eat first and talk later.”

 “Fine by me”, Bernie says.

After the food, they adjourn with another bottle of wine to the living room,  Serena clicking  on a playlist on her phone that gives quiet background music through her bluetooth speaker.

Serena’s eyes are soft and concerned. She smiles at Bernie, sitting in the armchair across from her, in such a way that Bernie feels like her twenty-one year old self again.

“Tell me, Bernie”, says Serena. So Bernie does, gratified to see Serena’s look of absolute horror and shame when she hears about the way her mother talked to Bernie.

 “Oh Bernie, I had no idea you came to the house, let alone that my mother talked to you”.

 “And I had no idea she had read my letter”, replies Bernie, “or I would never have gone there”.

 “I was a coward”, Serena admits, “and I took the coward’s way out, but if I had seen you, I would have tried to explain, at least”.

Bernie is silent for a while. “You could have warned me”, she says finally. “But maybe it was for the best. I got my career in the Army, I got two wonderful kids, even if one isn’t speaking to me, and I learned how to toughen up. I just..I just couldn’t believe, Serena, that after all we had had, that you would dump me like that.”

 Serena is clearly both ashamed and remorseful.

“I have no excuse, Bernie, for what I put you through, even if I had my own problems. It was cruel and thoughtless. I wasn’t such a nice person back there. I only thought about myself. I just assumed, well, what one would assume….”.

 “That I would take it on the chin and move on”, adds Bernie grimly. Serena hangs her head in shame.

  _When Bernie finally got home the next day, she called her parents from Birmingham New Street station asking them to pick her up in Shrewsbury. She had reached the end of her resources, and though she tried to appear happy and responsive, her mother soon picked up on her unhappiness and Bernie spent all her time at home trying to evade her probing questions. August passed with agonizing slowness, and Bernie returned to Oxford as soon as the Halls opened in September._

“I went to the university counsellor”, she says, “I was a mess. Panic attacks, agoraphobia, anxiety.  I hardly ate. I was as thin as a rake. Ironically, that experience was once of the things that encouraged me to become a psychologist. So maybe without that, I would be something different”.

 “It’s always good to see the positive in situations”, Serena says. Them after a pause, “What about my letter? The first one? The one I am so, so glad my mother never got her hands on. Because if your letter was perfect, Bernie, and perfectly incriminating, if that’s the word, mine  was also dynamite”.

 “It was”, Bernie agrees, pausing. “I kept it for several years, then when I got engaged to Marcus and was pregnant with Cam, I destroyed it”.

 “You mean, you wanted to forget about it?” asks Serena.

 “Oh no,”, answers Bernie, turning her disconcertingly penetrating brown gaze on her.  “I mean, I didn’t want the physical evidence of it when I had this internal narrative telling me I was married, and happy and the mother of children who had two loving parents.”

 Then she adds, “I memorized it, I can still quote it … do you want me to?”

Serena closes her eyes. “I’d rather you didn’t!”

 “That letter has stayed in my memory forever, and if I burned it, it’s because I wanted to commit it to memory where only I could pull it out when it suited”.

 Serena’s eyes glisten, then she looks down and reaches into the back pocket of her jeans.

 “What? Is that my…you kept it after all?”  Bernie is astonished.

 “I rescued it from the waste paper basket and taped it back together”, Serena says.

  _One of the first things Serena did when she had recovered from the abortion was to get all Bernie’s letters, that she had secreted in the lining of a winter coat once she knew her mother was looking out for them, and take them to the Post Office where she applied for a PO Box. She kept that box for years, until her divorce, when she took everything out and brought it home, hiding the letters in a pouch inside a box in the attic where Elinor would never look._

Serena then reaches under the coffee table and produces a pouch which contains all Bernie’s letters and also some snap shots of Bernie, from their holiday in Germany. Bernie moves over to join her on the sofa to get a better look.

 “Oh my God”, chokes Bernie, tears blocking her vision, her hand swiping at her eyes, “I look so young and naïve”.

 “You were so, so cute”, says Serena sadly. “Look at this one, from the place where we went that day to swim in the lake. This is my favourite”. Bernie smiles at the recollection of that day, the photo showing her head and shoulders in a bikini, looking down at something, fringe in her eyes, her mouth open in an expression of delight.

 “I do still have one of you”, she says. “You sent it to me after Germany but before the weekend in Paris. Remember?”

 “Oh my God, is that the one with the tit show?”

 Bernie honks, “Yes. And I can see you had to take it on a Polaroid camera because if you had tried to get it developed, they would have said it was obscene or something”.

 The photograph in question, which Bernie has hidden well away, shows the young Serena reclining on the bed in her studio, clad in a red silk dressing gown, with one breast fully exposed.

 They both laugh, although Serena really, really hopes Bernie hasn’t got that one in her pocket because her breasts certainly don’t look like that now.

 Serena pours more wine. They are not drunk, but becoming mellow. She takes Bernie’s hands in hers.

“Bernie, I don’t know how to apologise for all that I put you through. ‘Sorry’ could never be enough. But I never forgot you, and I regretted every day of my life that I cut you out of it, because, frankly, and honestly, I’ve never had sex that came anywhere close to what we had back then. Or a friendship like that.”

Bernie blushes and looks down. “I’ve spent so many years wondering what would have happened if we had managed to stay together, but there came a point where I had to let go. I thought I was free of it, that after Alex I could accept my sexuality and move on. Then I came to Holby and …and.. it was like going back to the start.”

 “So what do you want, Bernie?” Serena asks gently, aware of Bernie’s fragility.

 “I..I ..really don’t know, Serena. I like you, God, I more than like you, I mean, you as you are now. But I’m afraid of being hurt again.”

 Serena’s arms are screaming to hold Bernie, her lips wanting to move closer to touch Bernie’s lips, but she holds herself rigid, knowing this is a turning point in their relationship.

“Please believe me, Bernie, that I would never, ever hurt you intentionally. I’m not the same person now that I was back then. And I feel so much for you, the person I know as a colleague and friend. If all you want is friendship, then yes, I can do that, and I will. It would be both an honour and a privilege. But if you wanted something more…. I’m open to that, too”.

Bernie looks at her for a long moment. Then Serena feels their mouths gravitating towards one another. She tried to hold back, to let Bernie lead, but it’s torture when all she wants to do is lean into her and give it all she has. Finally, Bernie’s lips meet hers and Serena feels herself moan in relief, as she wraps a hand around Bernie’s head to steady them as they kiss, softly at first, then deeper, tongues tangling. The pressure of Bernie’s body against hers as they kiss causes Serena to fall back against the cushions on the sofa and Bernie follows, her hands now on Serena’s shoulders, their hips and legs fitting together. Finally, Bernie moans and lets her chest rest against Serena’s as they kiss ever deeper. Serena can feel her nipples hard in her bra, and little stabs of pleasure radiating down to her core.

 Finally, they come up for air.

 “Is this OK?” whispers Serena, afraid that Bernie may find it overwhelming.

Bernie’s eyes are black and unfathomable. Serena can see intense lust, but also something she has never seen in Bernie’s eyes before. Uncertainty. The old Bernie knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Once Serena had managed to seduce her, Bernie became the lover of everyone’s dreams, tender, solicitous, always providing the right touch at the right time. It was like a form of telepathy. Bernie could always tell exactly what Serena needed to come, and hung in there, however awkward the position, until she did.

 Serena thinks it’s her turn now to be the certain one. She brushes Bernie’s hair gently out of her eyes and moves a hand up to her breast, squeezing through Bernie’s shirt. She rolls the nipple through her fingers, remembering how sensitive Bernie is there. Bernie gasps, and reaches down again to kiss Serena, pushing her hips against her, so that Serena feels the pressure on her pubic bone through her clothes. She is so turned on that she can hardly focus on what they are doing, but gradually becomes aware that the sofa is probably not the best place to be.

 “Come on, Major”, she whispers, let’s take this upstairs”. The playlist segues into the next track.

  _This is how the story went_  
_I met someone by accident_  
_It blew me away_  
_Blew me away_

 _It was in the darkest of my days_  
_When you took my sorrow and you took my pain_  
_And buried them away, you buried them away_

 _I wish I could lay down beside you_  
_When the day is done_  
_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_  
_But like everything I've ever known_  
_You disappear one day_  
_So I spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

 _Dropped you off at the train station_  
_Put a kiss on top of your head_  
_Watch you wave_  
_And watched you wave_

 _Then I went on home to my skyscrapers_  
_And neon lights and waiting papers_  
_That I call home_  
_I call that home_

 _I wish I could lay down beside you_  
_When the day is done_  
_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_  
_But like everything I've ever known_  
_You disappear one day_  
_So I spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

 _Woke up feeling heavy-hearted_  
_I'm going back to where I started_  
_The morning rain, the morning rain_  
_And though I wish that you were here_  
_On that same old road that brought me here_  
_It's calling me home, it's calling me home_

 _I wish I could lay down beside you_  
_When the day is done_  
_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_  
_But like everything I've ever known_  
_You disappear one day_  
_So I spend my whole life hiding my heart away_  
_I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

 


	14. Baby Can I Hold You Tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before- and later. Bernie and Serena come to an understanding and make their relationship official.
> 
> Song for the chapter is "Baby, Can I Hold You?" by Tracy Chapman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the final chapter, where our two ladies get the future they assuredly deserve. Hope you enjoy!

“Bugger”, exclaims Bernie as she checks her schedule and sees a Department meeting scheduled for 10 am.

 “Problem?” asks Serena, sipping her first takeout coffee of the morning.

 “Just a boring meeting- to discuss the decoration of the new Psych rooms on the sixth floor-for God’s sake!  I was hoping to put some order into my patient files this morning, but it’s not to be”, she smiles in exasperation at Serena, and takes a sip of her own coffee.

 At this moment there’s a knock on the door and a head pokes in.

 “Ms Campbell?”

 “That’s me”, says Serena, looking up.

 A body follows the head, and a young, dark-haired man in aqua scrubs appears.

 “Er..Cameron Dunn, I’m your new F1. I was told to report to you……Oh, hello Mum!”

 “Cam!”, says Bernie in shock, having completely forgotten that he is due to start at Holby today.

 Serena looks from Cameron to Bernie and raises an eyebrow.

 “A family connection?”

 Bernie gets to her feet and goes to stand next to Cameron.

 “Serena, this is my son, Cameron. I didn’t realise he’d be joining us on AAU”.

 “Is that a problem?” Cam asks, puzzled.

 “Absolutely not”, says Serena smoothly, getting to her feet. She extends her hand.

 “Serena Campbell, Consultant Vascular surgeon and surgical lead on AAU. Pleased to meet you”.

 A nervous grin appears on Cameron’s face as he shakes Serena’s hand.

 “Likewise”, he says, flicking his eyes towards Bernie, who has turned a dull red, and is groping her way back to her desk, trying to hide behind her fringe. Damn that boy! Nothing gets past him!

 “Right, well no time like the present, let’s get you started”, and Serena ushers him out of the room shouting “Fletch”.

 When she comes back, she has a look on her face that means Bernie is in for a spot of interrogation.

 “Care to tell me what all that blushing and those little looks were about”.

 “Um, it’s just that I may have mentioned you a few times to him, and he uh..obviously..uh.”

 “Has put two and two together,” finishes Serena.

 “Something like that”, mumbles Bernie.

 Serena goes over to her desk and touches Bernie gently under the chin, raising her head so that she can look into her eyes.

 “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Bernie. I’m delighted to meet your kids, and if you want to tell them that we’re now in a relationship, that’s absolutely fine by me. As long as he doesn’t go shooting his mouth off to the other staff!”

 “Oh no, he wouldn’t…I mean, I haven’t actually told him we’ve….”

 “I see. So he’s pretty sharp, hmm!”

 “He knows me too well,” she says sheepishly.

 “As long as you realise that I won’t be doing him any special favours. He’s just another F1 while he’s here.”

 “Oh, totally”, agrees Bernie, to  whom the mere idea of favouritism is anathema.

The department meeting is boring beyond words as her colleagues argue about what colour to paint the walls of the new consulting rooms. Bernie lets her mind wander back to waking up next to the delicious Serena Campbell earlier that morning.

She had slept better than she could remember sleeping since she started living on her own, and didn’t wake until seven, which was late for her. As she drifted into wakefulness, her senses alerted her to the fact that she was not where she expected to be. Firstly, it was very quiet- her flat was near the main road and the sound of cars and motorbikes in the morning could be intrusive. All she could hear was faint birdsong, and the ticking of a clock close to her ear. As she lay still trying to work out where she was, she sensed the presence of a warm body in the bed next to her, and a faint aroma of vanilla. It was the smell that brought back the memory of the previous evening. How she had gone to Serena’s for dinner, to finish their conversation about the past, and how this had led to an admission that they were still attracted to one another. She didn’t remember moving from the living room to the bedroom, but she was aware that Jason had returned from his dinner with Alan and Serena had gone out to talk to him to explain that Bernie was very tired and would sleep over. She remembered Serena coming back into the bedroom and whispering “Shhh”, to indicate that they shouldn’t make too much noise and disturb Jason. Then, with the wickedest grin, she had proceeded to kiss Bernie deeply again, and to remove her clothes item by item, balking only at the tight jeans, which Bernie had wriggled out of, until she was lying in just her knickers on Serena’s bed, feeling more aroused than at any time during her marriage.

Sitting in her meeting, Bernie squeezes her legs together, holding her breath as she remembers the first touch of Serena’s mouth on her, her tongue swiping experimentally up and down Bernie’s sex, pushing a little more deeply with each swipe, inside, then over her clit. Conscious of her loud panting, and feeling her orgasm approach, Bernie had pushed a fist into her mouth as she went over the edge, biting to stifle her cries as her sex contracted powerfully, Serena staying there, licking and sucking until the tremors ceased and her body became still again.

Eventually, Serena had moved up Bernie’s body and kissed her, so that she could taste herself on Serena’s tongue.  Serena rubbed their noses together, then, looking into Bernie’s eyes, her own glistening with tears, she murmured “You taste even better than I remember”.

Bernie had not intended things to go so far. She was aware of a powerful attraction, but her senses were still on alert. She had held this feeling inside for thirty years and it was proving hard to let go of, despite the fact that their conversations had fitted the missing jigsaw pieces of the past together, revealing the powerlessness on both sides that had led to the hurt. Adrienne McKinnie had had a lot to answer for, thought Bernie. Humiliating Bernie and sending her away was one thing, but the influence she had wielded over Serena had caused her untold misery, right up until her death, from what Serena had told her.

As Bernie lay in the comfortable bed breathing in the warm fragrance of the woman sleeping next to her, she was suddenly flooded with a totally unfamiliar sense of well-being. For once, she didn’t have to hide and there was nothing to run away from. She had done nothing wrong, no one was going to punish her – as she ticked items off her mental checklist that had been part of her personal internal discipline for thirty years, she realised with something like amazement that for the first time since 1986, she was free. Free to love as she wished and, it appeared, to be loved in return.

Serena was similarly finding concentration difficult that morning. That she and Bernie had had breakfast together with Jason was amazing in itself. Serena had half expected Bernie to flee at some point, possibly in remorse for having given in to lust, but there she was, radiantly beautiful, smiling tenderly at Serena over her toast and honey and cracking jokes with Jason.

The sex, of course, had been spectacular. After Serena’s initial breaking down of Bernie’s barriers – which felt so much like a homecoming that Serena had been in tears when she moved back up to kiss her- she had found herself the object of Bernie’s fevered attentions, worshipped with fingers and tongue; the first time, in response to her pleading, just straight to heaven  with a twist of Bernie’s elegant long fingers, until she was biting the pillow to smother her howls, then a slow build back up, a smooth crescendo of exquisite pleasure leading to a long and shuddering climax that left her breathless and shattered.

“Oh God I missed that so much”, she had whispered into Bernie’s shoulder as she cradled her, rocking gently in her arms.

Bernie's expression as she fell back against the pillows was somewhere between smug and disbelieving. Serena thought that might have been the point at which Bernie’s subconscious  would normally tell her to run, so  despite the overwhelming urge to sleep, Serena had talked to Bernie, told her stories, asked her for reminiscences of her own until they were both laughing and the danger moment had passed. Then she had dug out an old T-shirt for Bernie to wear, in case she felt self-conscious waking up naked, and had donned her own silk pyjamas, and they had fallen asleep with Serena spooning Bernie, snuggled against her back, keeping her warm and safe.

Serena is thinking all this as she sits at the computer in the nurse’s station, and a blush rises to her cheeks as a vivid image of Bernie’s black, lust-filled gaze sends heat pooling between her thighs. She swivels in the chair a little to relieve some of the tension, and as she does so, she raises her head just in time to meet the eyes of the new F1, Cameron. She blushes even more and looks down as he smiles knowingly to himself.

The day creeps slowly towards its conclusion. Serena has three trips to theatre, nothing life threatening fortunately. She’s not sure she could manage a complicated artery repair in her current state of euphoria and incipient arousal. Every time she and Bernie find themselves alone in the office they look at each other and the electric buzz of desire makes both of them long for an end to the day.

As she heads for the bathroom one time, she overhears part of a conversation at the nurse’s station.

“So that’s twenty quid you owe me”.

“What? Hey, you never paid _me_ when they were fighting back there, so I reckon we’re about quits”.

 “Bit of a turnup for the books, though! Did you see that _look_ Serena gave her across the room just now?”

 “You might wanna get pally with that new F1, Dr Dunn- he’s Bernie’s son, you know…..-“

 The conversation stops abruptly as Serena comes into their view, but she ignores it, smiling to herself as she walks briskly past them.

She guesses her own staff have set the rumour mill off because when she comes back to the office at five pm after her last operation, she sees Dominic Copeland, still in his maroon scrubs, sitting on her desk apparently trying to persuade Bernie to go to Albie’s with them.

“Well what about you, Ms Campbell?” he almost pleads. “Won’t you join us? Then maybe Ms Reluctant here will tag along.”

“Not this evening, Dominic,” she says, “I’ve got to get home to prepare Jason’s meal. Another evening perhaps?”

He looks at Bernie. “Don’t tell me that’s your excuse, too”, he says grumpily, before he catches the look that passes between Bernie and Serena, then the penny drops.

“Oh! I see. Well, in that case, ladies, have a wonderful evening and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do”, and he exits with a wink at Bernie.

Bernie groans and puts her head in her hands. “Now it will be all over Keller and Darwin and everywhere”.

“You’re right”, says Serena thoughtfully, sitting at her desk.

“Look, we have an hour or so before I have to be back- and you’re very welcome to come with me if you can stand fish and chips for dinner, that is! But what about getting out of here and having a bit of fresh air?”

Bernie raises her eyebrows a fraction, but then stands and begins gathering her things and putting them in her bag. She had been home to change that morning, and is wearing a forest  green tailored shirt over slim charcoal jeans and black ankle boots. She lifts her dark brown leather jacket from the back of the chair, her golden hair bouncing softly as she moves.  Serena watches her, transfixed. She thinks she has never seen anything more beautiful. Bernie looks up.

“What?”

“Nothing I just …I…Oh, let’s get out of here for God’s sake!”

They go to Serena’s car and she drives out of the hospital and out of Holby, up a long winding road that leads to a lookout spot with a panoramic view over the river. They get out of the car and lean against the stone structure that holds a bronze plaque with a wide view direction finder. From here they have a clear view over the river to Wales. The breeze is fresh and the air is clean. At this time of year, dusk is still two to three hours away and the sun is sparkling on the houses and farms below and on the distant river.

“Bernie,” begins Serena, “are you going to be OK with this? You know people will talk. Are you ready for us to admit we’re in a relationship?  Or is that too soon?”

Bernie looks down for a moment then she meets Serena’s gaze.

“I want to be honest with you, Serena. Last night was the happiest I have been since ..oh, a very long time. But before we go any further I want to know if it’s real. Or are we just playing at resurrecting a past relationship?”

“I’m not playing”, says Serena quietly, holding Bernie’s gaze.

‘Me neither”, affirms Bernie, waiting.

“You’re my best friend,” says Serena, “you’ve become my best friend since you came to work with me. And now you’re more than that. This is not about the past. That’s over. This is now.  I..I love you Bernie. I’m so much in love with you that it hurts just to look at you sometimes…” she breaks off, tears in her eyes.

Bernie reaches out and squeezes her hand.

“I love you, too, Serena. I’ve been trying to deny it, thinking I needed to protect myself, but I can’t pretend any more. I’m free, there’s nothing in the way, I’m just afraid I’ll mess it up or something”.

“Well, it was me who messed it up last time”, sniffs Serena, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “You were the best friend and lover anyone could have wanted. Now it’s me who has something to prove. And I will. Just give me a chance, give us a chance, Bernie. A new start.”

Bernie pulls her slowly closer, her mouth seeking Serena’s. They relax into the kiss, Bernie holding Serena’s face between her hands with immense care. There is a screech of tyres into the parking spot next to them, then the crunch of gravel as the occupants of the car decide not to hang around. Bernie ignores them, kissing Serena deeply and tenderly as if her life depends on it.  

“Let’s go home, Major”, smiles Serena when they finally pull away.

 

**One Month Later**

Bernie looks at the drawer she has been assigned in the master bedroom and realises that her rather frugal selection of clothes will fill only half of it. She folds and stows her T-shirts and sweaters, then goes to hang her jeans, shirts and her one suit in the wardrobe. When she opens the top underwear drawer, she is immediately overawed by the quality and variety of Serena’s things.  She is almost ashamed to put her plain black cotton underwear into the drawer below.

“Hmmm, some shopping urgently required”, she thinks.

When she has finished she zips her empty suitcase and slides it up onto the top shelf in the wardrobe.

As she stands, thinking about taking a shower, there is a click and Serena enters the bedroom, locking the door behind her. Bernie raises her eyebrows.

"I've  sent Jason to buy some more glasses and napkins” she says, a mischievous look in her eye. “I estimate we have twenty minutes”.

“Oh, and how did you plan to spend that time?” asks Bernie playfully. Serena’s intention is obvious. Her eyes are dark, pupils dilated. She takes hold of the bottom of Bernie’s T-shirt and pulls up. Bernie raises her arms to make it easier. She is not wearing a bra as she has been pottering around all morning in her sweats. Serena shivers as she fastens her mouth onto a hard, pink nipple, and reaches to caress the other breast with her hand.

No matter how many times they do this, Bernie reacts instantly to Serena’s touch, her super sensitive breasts sending signals to her stomach and thighs and a surge of wetness to her knickers.

“Serena”, she whimpers, as they fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Serena pauses only to place small, tender kisses on the scar bisecting Bernie’s chest, one hand still rolling a nipple and giving the breast a gentle squeeze. Serena’s other hand moves down to cup Bernie through her sweatpants, and Bernie shudders and squirms, but she stills the hand on the outside.

“I need a shower”, she mutters, “I’m all hot and sweaty from the unpacking and humping things around. Why don’t you join me?”

In response, Serena rolls off the bed and grabs Bernie’s hand, pulling her to her feet. She looks at her in agreement and they both shed their clothes as quickly as possible and dive into the ensuite.

When Jason arrives back with the shopping, he finds Elinor on the doorstep clutching a pot plant and a bottle of Prosecco.

“Hi, Ellie, come in. I’ve just been to get some more glasses.”

“Where’s Mum?” she asks, moving towards the stairs.

“Um..I don’t think you should go up there,” Jason says, a worried frown on his face. “I think and Auntie Bernie and Auntie Serena might be in the shower  together. They do that a lot. They think I don’t know but when they come down they both look all pink.”

Ellie makes a face. “TMI Jason, Too Much Information, yuk, that’s disgusting !”

“Why is it disgusting?” asks Jason, puzzled.  “They’re just saving water, and it saves time, too, if they’re in a hurry.”

Elinor gives him a long look to see if he is joking, and, unable to discern anything but earnestness in his expression, she moves back to the kitchen and puts her gifts on the table. At that moment the doorbell rings and Jason goes to open it. “Hi Cameron”, he says, “come on in”.

Elinor turns to see Jason entering the kitchen with a good -looking young man in jeans and a black polo shirt carrying a wrapped box which he deposits carefully on the floor. Behind him comes a fair- haired girl of about the same age as Elinor holding a large carrier bag.

“Ellie”, says Jason, “this is Bernie’s son, Cameron. And”, turning to Cam, “this must be your sister, Charlotte, right?”

“Hi,”, says Elinor, then looking at Charlotte she exclaims “Charlotte Dunn! You were in my A Level English Lit class!”

“Ellie Campbell!” smiles Charlotte, and they all laugh.

“So where are the Mums?” asks Cameron.

“Don’t ask,” says Ellie, rolling her eyes and pointing to the ceiling to indicate that they are upstairs.

“In the shower”, says Jason.

“Yuk!” says Charlotte, mock shuddering.

“Hey, stop that”, says Cam “I think it’s great that they can have a healthy sex life at their age”.

“And what age would that be?”, asks a voice, making them jump as Serena enters the room, her cheeks pink, and eyes glowing.

Cameron blushes as the others all laugh, then Bernie appears behind Serena, her cheeks just as pink. Elinor and Charlotte exchange eye rolls as Bernie exclaims “Lottie!”

“Hi Mum”, says Charlotte, going forward to hug her.

“I’m so glad you could come”, says Bernie, her eyes glistening. “Serena, this is my daughter Charlotte, Charlotte, this is my partner, Serena”.

Once the introductions are done, Elinor asks Cam to open the bottle of Prosecco and he pours a glass for everyone except Jason, who has orange juice.

“I’d like to propose a toast”, Cameron says “to our Mums, Bernie and Serena, and a long and happy life together under the same roof.”

Everyone is smiling and laughing as they sip, then Elinor turns to her plant.

“Bernie, as you’re moving in here, I just thought you should have your own pot plant to mark the occasion. Mum says you’re fond of cacti, so this,” she pushes a huge, phallic shaped cactus across the table, “is Horace. He only needs watering occasionally in spring and summer and not at all in the winter.”

“Ellie” says Serena warningly, but Bernie has picked up the pot and is reading the label.

"Thank you, Ellie” says Bernie, clearly touched. “This is a special flowering cactus, so it will look beautiful in the conservatory. She passes the small instruction booklet to Jason, who has already taken a great interest in Horace, and beams happily.

Cameron then clears his throat. “We..um..we thought we’d try for something a bit different”, and he goes to the box on the floor and lifts it carefully onto a chair. It’s not completely wrapped, there are holes at either end of it. Cameron removes the outer layer and inside is a plastic cat carrier, with something small, dark brown and fluffy inside. Without further ado, Cameron opens the carrier and a pair of wide green eyes looks up at them.

“Oh!” says Bernie, totally taken aback, but Serena has moved in and picked up the cat, which seems quite unflustered. “What a cutie!”

“This is Rosie, she’s a neutered female, half Burmese, half something walking down the street,” says Charlotte cheerfully. “We got her from the cat rescue place. They say she’s less than a year old. We just thought, well, what’s a pair of lesbians without a cat?”

Bernie honks loudly, which sets Elinor off giggling, and after a pause, Serena joins in and they all laugh except Jason, who is puzzled.

“Why do lesbians need a cat?” he asks, which makes everyone laugh even harder. Rosie issues a plaintive “miaow” and Charlotte  pulls a large bag of Whiskas from her carrier bag.

“Just to get you started”, she says, opening the packet and producing a bowl marked 'Rosie' from the cat carrier. “Oh and there’s some cat litter too”, putting another bag down.

As Rosie munches happily on her biscuits, Jason is looking at his phone, then he says “Oh, I see. It’s true. In a survey of LGBTQ women in the US, 40% owned cats, compared with 37% of households generally, and cat ownership was higher among couples than single people. And in Canada 45% of LGBT women owned cats.”

“Well there you are”, smirks Elinor, reaching out to stroke Rosie, who has now jumped onto the table and is preening herself.

The doorbell rings again, and Serena claps her hands, issuing orders. “OK people, this is a house-warming party for Bernie, so let’s get ourselves organised. Jason, please answer the door; Bernie greet the guests; Ellie, take Rosie into the conservatory for now, and prepare a litter tray. Charlotte and Cam help me clean the table and get the drinks and canapes ready”.

She can already hear the sound of children’s voices as Fletch and his family arrive, closely followed by Raf and Essie, Dom, Morven, Ric and Sacha.

**11.30 pm**

The last guests have departed, leaving Serena and Bernie with just their children. Jason has retired already. Charlotte and Serena take the last glasses and plates into the kitchen and start stacking the dishwasher.

“I should thank you, Serena”, says Charlotte, as Serena turns to look at her questioningly. “I’ve never seen my Mum look so happy as she does with you. I was a bit upset at first that she was unfaithful to Dad, but I can see now how unhappy she must have been all those years. I’m really sorry if I wasn’t more supportive when you two started out”.

“It’s fine,” says Serena, smiling a little drunkenly but reassuringly at the girl, “everything is absolutely fine”, and she gives her a warm hug.

Charlotte has opted to spend the night in Ellie’s room on a camp bed, and Cam is making up the sofa bed in the living room. Rosie clearly has plans to join him.

When Serena and Bernie get to their room, Serena locks the door and pushes Bernie against it, kissing her passionately and unbuttoning her shirt.

 “You looked so beautiful tonight,” she whispers, sliding her hands over Bernie’s breasts.

 Bernie gasps “And so did you. I love you so much Serena”, kissing her back and pushing  Serena’s blouse off her shoulders.

 “Not as much as I love you, Major”, giggles Serena. “Now get those jeans off right now”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the entertaining survey about cat ownership, look here:  
> https://www.autostraddle.com/40-of-lesbians-own-a-cat-so-i-guess-im-dying-alone-432496/


End file.
